


Can We Start Again?

by All_my_favorite_characters_are_empresses



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-04-30 10:29:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_my_favorite_characters_are_empresses/pseuds/All_my_favorite_characters_are_empresses
Summary: Erik finds his daily life disturbed by a young woman years before Christine. He makes his choice to help her early on. He has forgotten how to love, so when he finds himself slowly falling for her-the famous Christine Daae appears and gives him the chance at light and perfection. Only after, will he realize where his priorities lie? (Erik x OC)





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything but the OC Mia Canta/Cassia Chantel

"Please," She begged, her Spanish accent rolling over her words as she choked them out, "Help me or kill me, either would be a blessing at the moment," Dramatics excluded, she meant her words.

For above, in the world of the living, they were looking for her and there was no way she'd let them find her. Not after what she’d done. Not with her blood covered face and soaked undergarments. She would die before going back up there to face the judgement of men more irredeemable than her.

Luckily her position hade that possibility very real. A masked man, several stories beneath the ground, held her throat tightly to the wall and her wrists bound above her head. His emerald eyes pierced hers, although bloodshot like the rest of her, and he searched for any indication she was lying, "What awaits you up there, worse than this hell you wondered into?" His hand still held her pinned and she had to grasp all that remained of her dignity to hold his stare. He was young- she knew men’s bodies, and his was young despite the wariness written all over it.

With fright turning to stubbornness, she explained, "I'm a companion, or was, for the higher class-"

"You're what? Fifteen?" He growled as he flashed back to so long ago that he was faced with a similar girl, of a similar profession. Unlike his memory, this tattered girl smiled grimly.

Her laugh held no mirth, "Sixteen," But with her emancipated form and sunken eyes, she knew what he was thinking, "And actually ages twelve to fifteen are the most popular." The man at her throat narrowed his eyes at her and her face changed to sardonic regret, "I do not make the rules monsieur." The only way to keep those facts bearable was to laugh. A low laugh that she could hope would haunt men in their nightmares.

His grip loosened and he actually took a moment to look her up and down, noticing the bruises along her arms and the clothing that looked too small for her, yet not terrible conditions, "Why are you being chased?" If he had to guess, she was beaten on the street for something, the amount of blood on her dress would have been startling to most.

"I don't suppose you want to gues-" His grip tightened again with a growl before she finished and she was nodding furiously before his grip loosened again, "Murder."

His hand loosened entirely, to say he didn’t believe her was an understatement, " _You_  killed someone?”

Her black mess of hair nodded, "Unregrettably." Her smirk surprised him more than he'd like to admit, yet her eyes betrayed her when examined closely.

The man debated asking why? What reason would this girl have to kill someone? Girl was a strong term in this case, but he was almost ten years her senior- alright so seven. But it worked in this case. He heard the horses outside the sewage and the shouts on the streets she had come from. They were looking for her.

"I am not a patient person, the way I see it, kill me or help me, but please, choose." She wasn't a fan of begging, but in this position, she thought it was an exception.

He examined her closely, she was not lying. Her eyes, though trying their best to look impatient and bored, they only looked lost down here. She did not expect him to snap her neck or strangle her, still, he had never heard someone ask him for help and expect it. No, he would not kill her, he would help her because she asked for it.

The man moved closer to her, staring into her brown eyes so deep that she thought he could see everything she thought- and he saw something familiar. The mask, though, unnerved her. Not so much the mask itself or what could be under it, but the fact that he wore one. Everyone had their masks; his just stood out to all. His hand released her throat, and if the mask was only a metaphor, she thought it might have fallen too.

"What is your name?" His hypnotizing voice asked and she smiled rubbing her throat.

"Mia Canta." Again, her accent spoke her words like a song and he resisted asking her to repeat herself as he caught her hands wringing.

With one raised eyebrow, the visible one, he asked, "What's your real name?"

Her smile dropped and so did her gaze as she found the water suddenly interesting, "Of no consequence." The lostness her eyes projected was obvious now.

He reached out a black leather gloved hand but looked back to her eyes to find them fixed on him, "Erik."

She shook his hand firmly, "And your last name?"

"Of no consequence," He quoted her irritably, but she saw the humor in it. Barely a second to process the humor and he was whisking her back down a tunnel through the knee-deep water, her skirts floating at the surface, their path trailing an ominous red trail from her dress.

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The first thing Erik did was stitch the deep slice above her eyebrow, and the first thing Erik learned for himself, was that she sat through pain very well. The second was that she took very long baths.

He was at his piano and composing by the time she exited in an old shirt of his and a skirt he swiped from the washer room upstairs for her use. It was like she was taking in the room for the first time again- the candles, the lake, the stones that she walked on, the mirrors and the beautiful sound. That sound…

"Are you sure you did not kill me monsieur? For I feel like I'm walking through Paradise," Her voice was wistful as she touched the walls and walked down the steps to touch the water, "A little slice of Heaven by the sea, if you ask me," She watch the lights hit the ripples.

The music stopped as though surprised before she heard a defined scoff. Looking over her shoulder, Erik was watching her from the corner of his eye and she stood, "You're right, if I had died, and this was Paradise, God would be a fool." Her eyes were watching him, weighing how to act. Erik found it unnerving.

His mind took in every detail of the young girl. When she wasn't bloodied and dirty she was actually quite pretty. Her dark brown hair was wet and tangled but came past her shoulders while he could see the top of a red corset through the white shirt that her hair had dampened. Her body had forced curves but Erik had suspicions that she had been underfed. She was used to her manners and decorum yet, with her profession, modesty did not matter. Then, she exchanged afterlife phrases easily, as though unaware, and secondly this wasn't anything close to what Heaven would look like, "There is no god," Heaven had clouds and brightness, and beautiful normal people, “Welcome to my hell." He mumbled and yet she heard his voice still.

And she smiled, "Only if you make it. The Devil could burn me for all I care, and his hell could still be my paradise." It was then she looked to his side and her eyes widened, "May I?"

How could she smile, Erik wondered? She did so effortlessly, despite the ordeal she appeared to have just escape. Despite whatever she was running from, whoever, she smiled like this place really was the thing of dreams.

Still trying to interpret her response he moved from his seat and she took it happily. Her posture was perfect as her fingers fell upon the keys and her eyes closed. She played slowly at first, hesitant of what keys she was actually hitting but her rhythm picked up to a melody of excitement while a smile grew on her face before she stopped abruptly, jarring Erik from what he can say he was enjoying before he remember exactly how little he knew of this girl.

Granted, she wasn't that big of a threat, she couldn't weigh more than 110 or expect any of the horrors this cave included. She was a child in a dangerous trap, even if he didn’t expect to spring any on her.

Unused to visitors, Erik was leaning against an archway with thinly veiled suspicion, "I didn't know upper-class whores were taught piano." Erik said flatly with distaste and she didn't move before she stood and moved away from the bench with a glare that turned into a smile… such an easy smile that Erik almost lamented.

"That's one of the first things, second to dancing, and right above singing and then needlework." Her tone was sarcastic and Erik felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards against his better judgement, he was pretty sure she was joking in some form, "So where am I?"

"Several layers under the famous Opera Populaire," He answered simply before asking, "Who did you kill?"

"Really? The Opera Populaire?" Her tone was unreadable, although he tried; it was a mix of admiration and something else, "That's genius! How did you get the lake?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and reminded himself not to trust her, "Una respuesta para una respuesta."

Her upbeat tone continued and she had new suspicions about this man, and how he knew Spanish, with a sigh, "Some not-so-noble man. Whatever tears shed for him are wasted, maybe now his wife will know where their money was going." She shook her head and yet her voice shook on the word tears, suggesting she would shed her own tears, "And so the lake?"

Erik’s lips curled upward slightly in pride, "Natural, I simply controlled it a bit more.” Stranger, he reminded himself, “Why did you kill him?"

She didn't want to answer. Mia didn't have a good answer. At first she tried to change the subject, "I'm sorry, you have a beautiful voice monsieur, could you repeat yourself?" She averted her eyes coyly and Erik laughed.

"High class or not, do not play games with me." He threatened and Mia's fear came once more.

She turned fast to him and suddenly closer, "Why do you wear a mask?" They stared at each other for a several beats and Mia began to expect a hand to be at her throat again as his gaze cut through her remorselessly.

Eventually she shuddered, stepping back, "I don't know. It was crazy, I snapped." She walked a few steps away from him, she had lied. But lying was second nature to her now, so she laughed, "Actually, maybe you're crazy, I told you I murdered someone and you let me into your home. Trusting or arrogant?"

His smirk answered her question and she knew in a fight she wouldn't stand a chance even though his voice was soft, "A masked man is threatening you and you follow him into hell, desperate or brave, Ma Chanson?"

She spoke the truth that Erik knew, "I didn't want to die," Mia smiled, "And I've seen worse masks than yours." She yawned and stretched. Her voice held a similar lyrical calming quality, "May I ask how much Spanish you know?"

He debated how much to tell her, and found himself telling her a great deal, "I studied for a time in Persia, where they have enough trade with the Spanish that I found myself picking up the tongue."

Her eyes lit up again, like how they did at the sight of his piano, "So you know Persian too?"

"And Romani, Indian, German, English, and Russian." Erik liked the way her eyes sparkled at him, so happily. They wouldn't sparkle if they could really saw his face. Was this what whores were taught? How to smile? Erik was genuinely considering this while she responded.

Mia shook her head, "You're a genius," Erik felt uncomfortable with the admiration in her eyes, "And you just let me ask two questions in a row." Her smirk made Erik scoured at realizing his pride had let him bend the rules, "I suppose I can owe you two?"

The first Erik asked in complete curiosity, "Do you really know how to dance and sing?"

"I do," She said quickly, proudly, "I have been instructed in the three and in reading." Erik wondered what companion house just takes in poor girls and gives them class before erasing those thoughts along with any suggesting that place taught her to smile. Her eyes held a contempt for it in every regard.

His second question was asked with more care, "Can I trust you?"

"As much as I can trust you." Her words were spoken plainly but the look on her face told him more than he expected to get from her. Her eyes were trusting, her face pleaded. Those features relaxed back into her confident posture with a yawn and stretch, "I owe you thanks already but do you have anywhere I may stay the night?"

Erik did not have guests. He didn't like people, as a rule, and yet when she asked he tried to see the best possible scenario to saying no. If he rejected her, she would be at the mercy of the police looking for her, the place she came from, and the kind of men she had served… or worse. Against every instinct screaming at him he could not send her to that street. He motioned to the room she went through to use the bath. It was with Louis Philippe royal wooden everythings. There was a full length mirror, bed, wardrobe, dresser, book shelf and the bath room, "Is this satisfactory?" He asked in candor and Mia nodded.

"I could sleep on the piano bench at this point, thank you monsie- Erik." She moved to hug him but as he leaned away before she could touch him and she recoiled quickly with obvious fright turned sadness, "Definitely not trusting then, and I'm sorry, I am very grateful."

He nodded tersely still analyzing why she just tried to put her arms around his neck… coughing awkwardly he added, "I will be locking this door; there is no other way out. I will see you in the morning." Mia didn't know why he would want to keep her locked away; he winced when she attempted contact so it wasn't that, but then what? He was a puzzle, but she was good at puzzles.

Erik left and closed the door behind him, immediately after Mia remember and shouted, "Oh! And hey! If this is what hell is like, heaven can stay for the righteous."


	2. A Balancing Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still own nothing!

Erik and Mia had worked out an agreement the next day. She could have the room she slept in until a better, more independent life, could be formed by her. In exchange she would do the shopping, clean, cook, and spy in the Opera above for him. It was along her first spying mission that she realized who everyone else saw Erik as…

"Excuse me, monsieur." She mumbled, decked in her washed clothes that she wore the day she met Erik, and passed off a note in the owner's pocket discreetly. Mia looked just like a washer woman and the owner wouldn't know them all by looks, especially as she didn't give him a chance to see her face.

Not a few steps later she heard the man gasp and the ripping of envelope yet she turned left quickly, for a tunnel would be just in this alcove but then she heard the man mumbling, "That darn ghost" under his breath and she ducked into her hidden doorway quickly.

Closing the door behind her she contemplated what she just heard, how did he think Erik was a ghost? Those don't exist. She scoffed and began walking down the steep staircase. The first week she was very careful about her steps and the traps that Erik said would await her if she missed.

But now… she miscounted the trigger step. Instead of jumping over the step she stepped for it and went straight through in the darkness, a yelp scratching her throat, "Erik!" Landing hurt her but, yet she's had worse as she stood once more and looked up. The trap door had closed. To the right of her, was an image of her and to the left the same. Behind her was a cement wall so she walked forward.

It was a maze of mirrors, "Erik! If you can hear me..." Her shout droned off as she kept walking, careful to ignore the duplicate images of her before she caught a flash of black in one and turned quickly- then realizing how mirrors work, turned back, "Erik?"

Mia turned once more carefully and then jumped back at the closeness of the man in the dark mask. Clutching her chest, she took a deep breath, "You scared me!" Almost nose to nose Erik looked over he once for injuries.

He grabbed her wrist aggravated and pulled her along with him through the maze of mirrors, "Did you deliver the letter?"

"Of 'course."

One moment she was still seeing doubles, and the next, they were standing in the lair. With wide eyes, she looked back through the hall they came through, "Are you blind?" He asked angrily and she remembered she had just gotten herself into one of his traps.

"Apologies my dear ghost, my dear," She picked her words carefully as he narrowed his eyes at her, "Phantom of the opera." She smirked and his glare softened. Only slightly.

With an extravagant low bow, he took her hand and kissed the back of it, sending a small spark straight to her head, "Precisely." He was not smiling, “You have to be more careful.” His tone almost implied concern.

She waved a careless hand to his warning with a smile, “The whole opera house sees you as this presence-“ She realized the persona he had built for himself. The grand and scary Phantom of the Opera that haunted the Opera Populaire with a face of… Her eyes narrowed on his mask and it was as if he read her mind and turned away, “I wish I had that sort of power.”

Erik walked back to his piano leaving the cold words to clang around the cavern home. Not quite a lie, but not quite a compliment. As he began to play, he could hear her shuffling around in the home, getting changed, sitting with a book. When he remembered to stop playing for the night, she was still there on the couch with her book, eyes shut, head leaned back with her waterfall of wavy hair that appeared black in the dimmed light.

Sudden guilt rushed over Erik. In just the few weeks she stayed with him, he had corrupted her to believing him to be brilliant, for his lifestyle to be _normal_. He had corrupted this… beautiful song with his own horrid-ness. This needed to end now.

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Blood. Lots of blood and a terrible weight bearing down on her. His eyes… although filled with anger seconds ago, were only heavy now as he stared right through her and she sobbed trying to push him off of her but failing when she realized her hand was inside of him. Using her other hand she pushed him off her.

A man, young and handsome, toppled off the bed dead. Mia examined her red and dripping hands, her right one holding a dagger that she had bought years ago, hoping never to need. The silver designs marred by the blood it called for, Mia found herself dropping it and backing away trying to wipe her hands on her dress only to find it covered in blood as well.

Suddenly it seemed she became aware that the entire floor was completely covered in a pool of blood and her breathing became erratic as it rose and rose and the furniture basically disappeared and she scrabbled to not drown.

Soon she gave up trying to hide. She screamed.

Mia awoke, throat raw, and sitting straight up in bed. She was gasping for air that her nightmare deprived her of and soon another shock came as a masked man slammed the door open quickly.

His black trousers were wrinkled and a ruffled white loose shirt as he gazed around the room threateningly with a glare that did not help her racing heart. Once his gaze settled on her unharmed and scared form, his face seemed to soften.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a calm tone that didn't match his appearance. Mia only was able to nod as she breathed deeply and tried to calm herself down, "That is not very reassuring," Erik mumbled at her shaking and panicking form.

Moving to her bedside, he was cautious to touch her. Not wanting to frighten her, he did not sit down immediately but as soon as a shudder ran clear through her, he took hold of her restless hands and shhh-ed her softly although as soon as his hands touched hers she stopped moving. His hands were like ice even as the contact sent a spark through both of them. Neither speaking, Mia’s eyes never leaving Erik’s.

She was terrified, truly terrified. Erik knew that look, the look of a wounded animal, wondering what the fastest escape route was, the idea of fighting far from possible. Pride beaten, and the worst possibilities come true, “Why?” She exhaled the broken word as her eyes turned to the place their hands met.

Erik only knew what she meant by that question because he had heard it before from his own mouth. When an old master Giovanni helped him, he was shocked into that small word, "Deep breaths, ma Chanson. Go far from that place.”

Her breathing calmer, Mia shook her head again, "I am sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed out. Did I wake you?” Her voice took a different quality, Erik realized, when she was backtracking. When she was avoiding a topic her voice sounded like chimes, forced.

When he heard her scream, he feared something happened. It was odd, having another under his roof, “Do not apologize. I-“ He stopped himself, following her gaze to his hands on hers and dropped the contact abruptly, “I am no stranger to nightmares.” He stood stiffly, going to leave without making eye contact.

At another point Mia may have insisted he stay, _offered_ that he stay; laughed or joked at his discomfort. Right now, however, she could only watch him close the door behind him, without ever meeting her eye. She said thank you after he was gone, long after she thought he could hear it.

The next morning it was as if nothing had happened. Their lives went on.

"These are all boring jobs." Mia commented absentmindedly as she flipped the newspaper at the table and the smell of chicken noodle soup filled the lair. It was getting very cold lately and she had just returned from the market, with a set of thicker clothes.

A sudden melodic voice came from the doorway, "Have you tried the circus?" His tone was joking yet Mia could've sworn she heard a drop of depression too.

Despite the minor shock at him being there suddenly, she recovered, "What could I do at the circus?"

Erik moved past her to the boiling pot and stirred it, "Same thing you do here, I'm sure, or you could try something new like fire dancing or being a miniature clown."

She thought for a moment, the circus? Why the circus? She laughed, "I heard Coney Island is getting big, how about fire breathing?"

"That is a feat to accomplish-"

"Is that what you did?" He spoke too familiarly of it, and by the way his entire body tensed, she was right, "Fire breathing?" If it was a burn, his face would be explained.

His breaths became shallow and he didn't look at her as he stormed out, "Tell me when lunch is ready." He didn't know why he brought up the circus. He thought she'd laugh, not look for a reason. Who does that? She did laugh though… he wondered vaguely if she'd still laugh if she knew.

A little later that day she came prancing into the lair to the melancholy piano and remembered the last time she interrupted Erik mid-composition, he was very angry, so she waited. And waited. Not that she complained, the music was lovely, and surely, she could listen to it for hours unaware that a minute had passed.

Finally she gave up waiting and simply touched his shoulder lightly to try not disturbing him yet his playing stopped immediately and he looked up at her curiously, all anger from before gone, "Dinner is ready," She said softly and Erik sighed, hating to part with his piano, "When you are." She left quietly back to the kitchen and poured her bowl before she actually heard Erik coming and poured him one.

Mia took both bowls to the small table across from each other just as Erik sat down, "You're welcome." She answered to his silence.

"Thank you," He apologized quietly as though he wasn't used to doing it, "It smells good." It was not right, for her to be waiting on him. He wasn't worth her blind kindness.

Mia took a spoonful and nodded, "I'm glad the store still had fresh vegetables in, I hate carrots that aren't fresh," To his silence as they ate, she phrased her next question carefully, "I have a proposition for you, or well, for the Phantom."

The glint came back into Erik's yellow-green eyes as he acknowledged her words and leaned back playfully, "What would that be?"

She leaned forward, a similar glint in her eyes, "I want you to teach me."

"Teach you what?" His sincere confusion was almost cute, Mia thought.

Shrugging she motioned to the lair, "Well, you could teach me to be like you. Help me memorize the tunnels and the opera house, teach me the tricks you use effortlessly, and whatever else you do. Like an apprentice!"

His eyebrows drew together as he asked again, "Why?"

Feeling discouraged she shrugged again, "Because… because you obviously care a great deal about your music and your art," She only knew art because she caught a glimpse into his room before he closed the door once, "And if you had an apprentice of sorts that you could delegate tasks to, you would have more time to yourself, and I could stay living here."

Erik seemed to be in deep thought as he kept his eyes on hers and she didn't dare to look away, "No, why would you want to be like me?" This was what he was trying to avoid. This life, this mausoleum was his, and not anyone else's.

Mia wasn't prepared for this question and she thought twice before answering, "I wouldn't mind staying in heaven a bit longer, and I want to help. Being secretive sounds fun for a change." Erik stood from the table, almost angrily and Mia's mind raced for something to convince him but he beat her to it.

"Foolish naïve girl!" He shouted as his hand came down on the pan that sat on the stove, pushing it to the ground. Mia stood slowly but when he turned back to face her she retook her seat in fear, "When will you learn this is the farthest from your precious heaven?" The features on the visible side of his face were twisted and she silently hoped he wouldn't come closer as this temper was new. Sardonic and callow she could deal with, temper always made her on edge. Mostly because she had one of her own, if he wanted a fight, he could have one.

Standing she answered plainly, "I'll learn on the day you give me reason to believe your words!" He ran his hands over his slicked black hair frustrated, "Why do you continuously insist otherwise?"

He turned away from her and became eerily quiet before speaking in a different tone, a madder one, yet it held a lyrical property, as though she had heard him play in it on the piano before, "Damn you, curse you. Have you even looked around you, have you really seen this place? This product of nightmares, whose darkness rivals jails and the worst cages, but that's what it is, it is."

Erik's tone shut Mia up as she had never heard him sing but that was the closest she'd hear for a while and it surprised her how angelic he was. Ignoring that, she replied softly, "A prison built by who?"

His anger had turned to vulnerability very fast and she began to wonder just how mentally stable her roommate was, "Me." But he looked her in the eyes, not with fear or sadness but blistering anger despite his position in the corner of the kitchen. He had walked there to get the farthest from her it seemed yet now straightened his stature once more in composure.

"Well, that's where I belong, prison, for what I did. This is my haven, my heaven. What did you do that twists the vision I see?" Mia knew there were worse things than killing a man but she didn't know who she was talking to anymore.

Erik paced, "A lot worse." This was the first company he had had in years, as much as he really wouldn't mind her staying a little longer, she wasn't a bad person, not like him. She cried for her actions. He couldn't push this life onto her, even if it meant having a… a friend. He hadn't had a friend in so long.

"Let's talk about them." She motioned to the chair he had vacated but he shook his head just a minuscule, "Erik, just tell me, what could be worth convincing yourself of lies that put you in pain?"

He paused as he reached the doorway, "They aren't lies!" He said again angrily, "Erik deserves this! You should leave while you can," He said quieter before walking out of the kitchen. Not long after, music began to waver through the air while Mia still had to move from her spot. Did he just put himself in the third person?

Finally, she cleaned up dinner and washed every dish. Erik truly believed he was evil, and Mia didn't know why. She's met men worse than him; he's never hurt her, or tried to, even. He never oversteps and she understands his humor. What could he have done?

She could go back to the companion house…Mia walked out to the stone steps, her mind was made up.

His hands drifted over the keys so fluidly that Mia lost sight of every note pressed and gave up trying to understand his talent. It was beautiful, although sad, which she supposed related to their conversation. Silently she sat next to him on the piano bench, her knee bumped his and she heard him hit just one wrong note among the many perfect ones. His eyes were closed but he knew she was there and the tempo escalated as he knew what she wanted.

But she didn't speak or make any movement to interrupt him. She just sat there, watched, and listened.

He was sure it was going on an hour but she still hadn't moved so he kept playing. Eventually, he stopped, and when he did she was sitting there, still looking at the keys.

"Erik, I am not blind to this world. I can understand your loathing but I cannot share it. This is the side of my world that I have only dreamed of. It is the beauty underneath that I can only hope to stay with, and I won't be leaving- unless you make me?"

Erik growled, unused to having his patience tested, "You're wrong. There is no beauty. Erik is grotesque and horrific."

"Then you are not talking about this place, because I've been here for a few weeks and I know nothing you create is bad."

With a deep sigh, he stood up and paced backward while Mia watched with wide eyes, "It is painful to hear you speak with such false hope! Go!" He pointed at the gate, "This is no place for idiots to stay, especially not blind ones who don't know what they speak of." If he could make her leave, she would be free of him, grabbing a noose hung on the wall, he threatened, "Go now! Erik won't ask again!"

His anger scared Mia, no doubt, enough that she stood and backed towards the water and the boat before she stopped when she looked into his eyes. His face and voice said anger, his eyes held pain. With a set face she started walking back towards him. Controlling her breathing, she knew she could handle his reaction.

The closer she got to him, the lower the noose went, the more his eyes shined and his face fell. Finally, she got close enough that he turned his back to her. He would not hurt her, he repeated to himself. She gave him a choice, he had to help her. Her voice was sad behind him, "How?"

He scoffed in self-frustration, "How did you get roped into your lot?"

With patience Mia nodded even though he could not see her, "When my father died, my mother was French so we came here only to find that her family had gone to England. Mother died of sickness when I was eleven and they approached me on the streets the next year."

He felt a small anger at her parents for leaving her in a position that she was so liable to that temptation yet he found himself asking, "Did your parents love you?"

"Very much," The quickness of her answer told him it was true, "They would not have left me if they did not have to."

Erik paced away from her, searching desperately to place distance from them, she was too close, too fast, "That makes you lucky." He can still remember his mother's frequent shouts and his hands went to his ears as those he could block them out still, "Did they kiss you?"

Mia shook her head, not understanding, and yet still fearing his movements enough to stay back, "Every parent should love their child, and yes, they did."

A grim laugh came from the downfaced Erik, "Not every child, and not every parent. When I was born, my father had already died and my mother…" he took a shaky breath before composing, his hands lowered to his side, "My mother screamed."

It seemed then, that his mask mattered, "Why?"

He spun at her angrily growling before seemingly correcting himself and shaking his head, "You would too; it's the most common reaction," His fingers reached up to touch his mask gently, "Even I did." He could remember the first reaction to looking in a mirror. Mia smiled as kindly as she could, "It has only brought me pain, and that is all I bring. If you stay here, I will make you miserable."

She didn't seem to hear his words and surprised him by moving in front of him and he straightened in surprise at her closeness yet she just reached up to take the good side of his face in her right hand. The pressure made him freeze and a hand snapped up to grasp her wrist. He glared at her harshly. She ignored his glare, and his uncomfortable grasp, "I'm not common."

"Don't," He growled deeply, no resonance of the sadness that recently filled him, his eyes were on fire and ready to burn.

She lifted her left hand to his masked cheek and he snapped his other hand to hers again and held both of them painfully hard. She still spoke softly, "I have shown you an array of masks, may I?"

He contemplated her words. Yes, she enjoyed dancing and music, but she preferred his version of it, and was headstrong enough to want to make her changes to it. She was his only friend if he could call her that, and he didn't want to lose her. She was his only company, "You will scream, and Erik cannot protect you from the face."

Mia frowned at his words. She had never heard that before. She was used to men who would prefer not to know her, or to be unassociated with her- certainly never protect her. But this was different. In hopes of calming him, she reached for the lasso in his hand. His fingers let go at the touch of hers, and she tied the rope end around her wrist and reached for his hand, which he gave willingly. The other side of the rope connected them.

When her eyes met his again, they were assured, "I'm not going anywhere, and you are not going to actually hurt me."

Erik shook his head, closing his eyes in defeat. She was asking for it, even though she had no idea what she was actually asking for. He didn't want to see her reaction to his face; he didn't want to hear it.

Her hand fell over the white leather and he took a sharp breath before releasing it. The air felt cold on his twisted skin and his eyes opened involuntarily. Even if he didn't, he would have heard her intake of air, the muffled gasp.

Of 'course, she was afraid of it.


	3. The Second Handshake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to own nothing! Any ideas or requests now is the time to do them!! I have the whole story written but if there is anything, in particular, you would like to see, speak it now!

Her hand fell over the white leather and he took a sharp breath before releasing it. The air felt cold on his twisted skin and his eyes opened involuntarily. Even if he didn't, he would have heard her intake of air, the muffled gasp.

Of 'course, she was afraid of it.

Anger flooded his brain he pushed her back, reaching for the mask but she was too quick as she threw it back into the lake and he shouted down at her, "Why? Why must you do this to Erik!"

His mask would be his only chance at reviving this situation. His untied hand covered the scarred side of his face as he stood too quickly for Mia to stop him as he jerked her form on the stone ground, hard.

 He was a fool to hope she would accept him. He was a fool.

Suddenly, amidst his angry pacing away, he was pulled back by his tied hand and she was holding onto the rope tightly with her feet buffering on the stone, "This works both ways Erik, please come sit!" Instead, he tugged on the rope harshly- hoping to make it break, but it only pulled her down a stepping stone and she yelped with tears pooling in her eyes, "Stop it!"

His voice was growling rabid at her, "Of course you're afraid of Erik! You should be!" Angrily he threw the ink jar on his piano into a side mirror that shattered with black blotches around it and Mia tried holding the rope again and failed as he dragged her.

"Erik!"

Noticing the form that was still responsible for slowing down his pace he turned on her, "This face! Erik is a living corpse; a freak!" He knelt to her level and grabbed the front of her shirt, shaking her with both his hands, yet even with his face exposed she only met his eyes. Her own eyes were watering at the force he could toss her and the words he was saying, "No kind words from anyone, no compassion anywhere!"

Her hands covered his on her shirt, "Erik, please, stop this now!" She found what little breath she had in her lungs and shouted, her voice echoing in the lair and Erik's eyes began to soften when the tears that formed in her eyes fell down her rounded cheeks.

He looked at their hands and to her toiled face, "Mia."

"Erik," He looked at their hands and let go immediately, regretfully. Quickly, he even reached for the knife he knew she kept at her waist and cut the rope.

"You're free." He said without a second thought although his voice cracked with emotion and Mia's forced laugh brought him no comfort, "I-" She rubbed her wrists as his guilt grew and he tried to cover his face better, "I'm sorry."

As Erik moved to his bedroom in search of his black mask and he ignored that she winced when she stood behind him. Mia stood and brushed herself off, before looking into the water for the mask she threw. He came out of his room nervously unsure of her reaction. When he saw her wading into the water, he let out a breath of defeat, she was leaving.

Good. She should leave.

Only she didn’t. She reached into the water and reached his leather white mask. A sympathizing smile grew o her face as she got out of the water and onto the stones again. Looking at the ground she approached him and he watched with wide eyes as she reached a hand to his mask, "You're correct. I have seen men of all different backgrounds, ugly and attractive, rich and poor, kind or mean," She paused and Erik found himself angered at the experience with which she spoke. It reminded him too much or the Persian haram girl from so long ago, "That side of your face, is the worst I've ever seen."

He growled once more and tried to reach for the mask that she jerked away from him quickly, "You will pay for this humiliation gir-"

"But, and I know from a whore it will not mean much, but I would wager that you are a hundred times the man of any of those men. A point which makes your face moot."

Erik looked at her, confusion swimming in his green orbs as he inspected her for any signs of lying. She appeared entirely truthful, "You shouldn't lie." He tried to appeal to her but her comforting smile only grew. She had to admit, it was quite horrible. Most definitely the worst she has ever had the horror of seeing, but that did not determine who Erik was.

"I grimaced because you grimaced. I take it the skin gets a bit raw under that mask all the time and the air stung? Nonetheless, you looked in pain so I shared the pain. After that, your reaction scared me more than your face." Her hand still resting on the deformed side and lightly she rubbed her thumb on his cheek, feeling the bone sharply through the layer of mask, "I am sorry Erik."

He did not deserve the treatment he received at the hands of his punishers- his face was ugly, true, but did that matter? She dried off the leather best she could and sighed, kissing the cheek of the mask reverently, she handed it back to him and he took it, too stunned to speak at her gesture. What would her lips feel like on his cheek? He did not deserve this treatment either, not with that thought in his head.

No, he thought to himself, the poor girl was suffering from some sort of illness, some sort of madness, for believing him to be good- he was a demon's child, and he deserved to rot in hell.

"So, do we have a deal?"

He couldn't resist a small laugh, "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to make deals with the devil?"

She met his eyes and smirked, "Even the devil is an angel in his hell." Erik resisted a smile as when she held out her hand, he barely shook it in noticing its tenderness and noticed even after that, she did not wince at his touch. Whereas he could feel the rawness of her hand, the one that the rope cut into, and guilt flooded him once more.d

But then she smiled. 

And lord when she smiled, Erik wasn't sure what he could deny her. 


	4. A Lot to Learn - Part One

Erik had never had an apprentice before. He imagined them to be someone eager to learn and please. Mia proved him otherwise. As an apprentice, she certainly tried her hardest, and she had a well of untapped potential that Erik kept realizing ran deeper and deeper.

“I thought I instructed you _not_ to take the boat out.” The words echoed through the cave at how loud he shouted. He was standing over her sitting form, with Ayesha, his siamese, lying on the girl's lap. She was sitting on a thick Persian rug in front of the hearth in a dry cotton _velour_ robe with an enveloping blanket wrapped around her. Her wet hadn’t been comb out yet and Erik had to stop himself from storming out to get her comb and do it for her- for both because the intimacy of the act frightened him but also because he thrived on his anger at her disobedience. 

Mia could only stare at him for a moment, pulling the blanket she had around herself closer, before answering softly, “You did, but-“

His eyes of yellow met hers and her face flushed. Her voice refused to cooperate as he glared, “But you thought yourself clever.” It was an accusation, not a question.

She looked away from his harsh glare and he rolled his eyes at her refusal to just admit a mistake, “What’s the worse that could’ve happened?” Her levity sounded forced to Erik, and she clenched her fists in the blanket visibly.

He only scoffed at her callous dismissal, “The Opera House is not as kind as I am, mademoiselle. It holds little fondness for children like you.”

Her head swiveled back and up, indignation lighting up her features as she turned in her spot on the floor near the fire, “I am not a child!” 

“Then stop acting like one!” The words seemed to make Mia flinch both at the volume and at the truth. She’d been having too much fun and playing on too many of Erik’s nerves lately. It was just, this was her first taste of freedom and she was loving every second of it. Ayesha, annoyed with the shouting stood abruptly and walked off to sit on the couch.

Erik could only shake his head and walk off, into the kitchen and away from Mia. She sat back down and tried to focus on anything but the disappointment he showed. She had almost drowned after hitting a bank too hard in the boat. Fortunately, Erik had come for her but he was right. She did not want to rely on him any more than she wanted her to.

When he was in Italy, he would do anything Giovanni asked, Mia was more reluctant. If he gave her instructions, she did not take them for true at first hearing. If he told her to swim, she'd ask why. He challenged her and vice versa, and as they went through more days, the tension between them went from being electrically charged to chemical.

“Why do you have so many poisons?” The question was in response to the ten vials he brought out from his room one day for a lesson.

He laughed lowly, “I’m a world adventurer ma chérie, these are but souvenirs.”

Mia rolled her eyes, “That can’t be your answer to everything.”

A small smile took to the corner of his mouth, “I think it can be. Now, let’s begin.” Before sitting at the dining table he reached into the cabinets and took out a large bottle of red drink. He used a metal corkscrew to open it.

“Are you’re trying to get me drunk monsieur?”

The small smile appeared again as he sat with the bottle and two glasses, “Pick your poison.” There were 10 small vials on the table, all of the varying colors and some with strange consistencies it would appear.

She looked at the assembled potions and something told her this was not going to be a fun lesson as her stomach churned in nervousness, “What do they all do?”

“Only 1 or 2 are fatal, others make you act strangely and others still have physical effects.” He sounded so obscure.

“I do not like the idea of drinking unknown poisons mon cher.” Her eyes kept flicking between them and the memories she had threatened to break through. She was afraid the panic showed in her stare so she raised her eyes to Erik, attempting all the courage in the world.

Something about his face looked curious before he poured two glasses of wine, “Pick or I can pick for you.”

“Do you have antidotes ready?”

“Someone fears death more than they let on.”

“I’d rather die at knifepoint than writhing in pain on the floor like a lunatic.”

“That’s a sight I’d like to see.” He barely restrained a laugh at her description.

She scoffed, “Something is very wrong with you.”

“Trust me.” His elegant fingers ghosted hers as he handed over a glass and she smiled slowly.

She learned how to taste all 10 of the poisons in wine. Averaging about 6 questions per poison Erik was glad he was drinking in order to bear it.

It became sort of nice to have another person to share this tomb with, and yet to Erik, it was like predicting a train crash. Eventually their tempers would clash for the last time and the resulting storm would tear everything down around them. They both knew that they were a time bomb, and in more ways than one.

Erik was always one step ahead in this labyrinth of an opera house and no matter how fast Mia ran she could never catch him. More often than not, he caught her.

She took a wrong step, she knew the moment her foot hit the ground- or lack thereof.

A fake step that fell right out from under her and would’ve sent her tumbling. She didn’t scream at the fall, proudly, but she almost did at the hands that caught her, from behind no less.

How did he move so quickly? She could’ve sworn he was in front of her.

He pulled her backward just in time, forcing her on the same step as him, hands firmly grasping her waist as their bodies collided. It seemed to send a spark through both of them. Mia’s hand went to her breast in surprise with a gasp that she could’ve sworn he echoed at their closeness. His back against the cool stone of the wall and her back against his strong chest. She often forgot how tall he was compared to her but at this moment,  it was impossible to forget how he overshadowed her.

Erik’s breath warmed her ear and she could feel his body keenly at every point they met, “You need to be more careful.” He said in a strange whisper deeper than his usual baritone.

Mia was caught between feeling trapped and teasing, “Maybe I’m exactly where I want to be.” Why did her voice sound so breathless? It was the running- that must be it.

She twisted, his hands not leaving her waist as she turned to face him, their bodies properly touching now. His yellow-green eyes seemed to search for something in her, their faces a breath apart. But if his eyes found something, or the lack thereof, he couldn’t tell through the impassiveness he let off. She only caught the glimpse of tortured surprise on the edges of Erik’s features before he let go of her quickly and disappeared up the stairs, avoiding her form in every possible way, “Again.”

A command.

Keep practicing.

Be better. One that she followed without hesitation.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nadir Khan hadn’t heard from Erik in too long and was beginning to worry at the lack of correspondence. So, he made his way through quiet Paris in the early light of dawn to visit an old friend expecting the worst.

He knew a few of the doors and even a couple of the trap’s exits but it seems in his time away he forgot the way through the mirrored maze and got himself lost. At first, not wanting to admit forgetting, he tried to retrace his steps. After a proper amount of time getting frustrated he just started shouting, “Erik! Get me out of here!”

He continued to command his friend to come to rescue him when a sharp silvery voice interrupted his shouts, “Now who would you be?” It sounded amused and surprisingly feminine.

The mirrors continued to play tricks with the limited light, but Nadir was sure there was another form being manipulated by the mirrors now. Like a shadow, it always moved out of sight when he focused on it, “Erik, I am in no mood for jokes.”

The silvery voice laughed softly, “Erik is not expecting you.”

Nadir finally had to face the reality that this was not Erik, and he felt the fear rise in him again, “Yes he is, actually.”

The form stayed still now but was reflected on 3 mirrored sides of him now. It was neither short nor tall, and had a figure undeniably female, even in trousers and a tunic with an extravagant cloak wrapped around her shoulders and a hood draped over her head hiding most of her features, “Do not bother lying monsieur. Let me take you to him.” A hand slipped into his from behind and he spun to come face to face with the woman or girl.

She held onto his arm, and by route he gave her the crook of his elbow and let her lead them both through the maze. Her features were still mostly hidden from him, however, and he asked the question that he feared, “Are you trapped here?”

Although she did not laugh, a sharp smile graced her face, “No I am quite free, I think. What is your name?”

His eyes betrayed his disbelief, but she just kept them walking, “Nadir, and you are?”

“Mia.” Somehow, he felt she was lying, “How do you know our La Fantome?”

He began to relax, “We are old acquaintances, and how did you come to know him?”

Her laugh had the same quality that made you just want to stop and listen to it and her smile was one made to be looked at, “I was running away for murder at a whorehouse and stumbled into this paradise.”

Nadir laughed at this too, “One day Erik will stop surprising me.”

“Don’t count on it.”

The cellars! He knew where he was finally!

“EEErriikkk!” She called in a sing-song voice and let go of his arm to run off ahead to where he could see the masked man’s form come into view, “I found a person!”

"You should’ve waited for me." He said angrily, and he appeared to loom over the girl but her spine stayed straight in defiance.

The girl's voice hid a smile, "You know how I feel about treating guests well." Erik finally looked towards Nadir and an exasperated look befell his face. Mia took the opportunity to escape. She crossed the path smoothly and with the agility of a cat.

"Why are you here?" Erik demanded coldly.

Nadir looked behind Erik, at her, and Erik seemed to understand without any words. The two sets of eyes, one set from his past and one from his present, both unsure of one another. Not looking at her, he spoke without moving his mouth, "How many stairs are there in these cellars?"

She answered him in the same fashion, although her lips wavered. "Over 6,259."

His smirk was practically audible, "So close, try again." His response was not questionable as she left with a final look to the Persian and just before she disappeared down the corridor he was sure that her hood came down. Her black cloak disappeared into the darkness, but he could see the tousle of dark brown hair was tied in a long braid as she went.

Erik's voice commanded once more, "What are you doing here?"

Nadir found his way to Erik's side of the lake slowly, "I was checking up on you, rumors have been less as of late with a new production coming up," His statement trailed off as he says the signs that another did indeed live here with Erik, "But now I must ask, what have you done?"

Erik had seen this coming. It was an odd predicament, no question, and he knew what Nadir would be brought to thinking, "I saved her Daroga, she asked for help, and I gave."

The Persian raised his eyebrows at the living area, "You rarely give without taking."

Even though he saw it coming, the statement made Erik's blood boil, "You are not the Daroga anymore, why would anything of the sort matter to you?"

"Do you understand what I am asking? Does she even know who you are?"

"Yes! She saw my face weeks ago," He repressed a shudder in remembrance, "As for what you are asking, my question remains, why does it matter what she gives me?"

His tone implied he knew every innuendo Nadir was aiming at, yet he still hesitated, "She's a girl, Erik, cannot be older than the girl from the haram if she is, and Erik if you're saying that this is consensual I may have to ask her-"

The cold ghostly laugh filled the air and Nadir's words stopped as Erik's began, "Before this goes on any longer, what Mia is giving me is nothing of the consensual sort, only a sort of company in this night-hell." He took a seat casually at the table, his long limbs moving gracefully to pose him in perfect bored humor, "Besides, I am aware of my age Daroga." Nadir rolled his eyes at the comment, Erik's twenty-four years were only a number to the wealth of experience he possessed, for better or worse- It was a shame he never seemed to want to be young.

"It's not your age which I question Erik just her's." Ayesha greeted the guest by rubbing against Nadir's leg until getting scratched. 

Nadir could see the fury that Erik held at the very insinuation and he let out a breath of relief, "Don’t feel so relieved. She would deserve better than me." It might have been anger Nadir heard in Erik’s tone, but he waved it off. Erik was always known to be overdramatic but Nadir knew him too well to believe he’d force a woman, so the Persian left more reassured.

Erik would remember that conversation for years to come, it would help him remember who Mia was, and who he must be to her. Even when he did not want to be. Even as his dreams occasionally plagued him with the curve of her waist or the sight of her in the low-cut white shirts she enjoys. Those could only be dreams because Erik would not sink so low as to think himself worthy of her or any woman. He had spent all his life knowing that fact, but this girl had just walked in and made him consider how much he'd like to know all over again. Even just the domestic pleasures of waking up to breakfast or having someone tell him goodnight were treasures he never thought he'd get, but that she brought into this cold home-of-sorts without hesitation. 


	5. A Lot to Learn - Part Two

Weeks flew by in which Mia was woken up before dawn to sprint through tunnel after tunnel, to be blindfolded and left in various points of the opera house, to swim under the metal gate and to the secret exit three blocks down, to pickpocket (first the phantom, and then unsuspecting opera workers), to fence, and to get tossed down traps and find her way back.

It was a stormy night, with thunder so loud that Mia found sleep impossible. Erik had wandered to his piano for a specific piece when he saw her awake on the bench. She was staring at the keys.

“Ma chanson?”

Mia’s voice was cold, "There was blood," She paused when he stopped moving, but she continued, "So much blood, all over my hands and clothes. The room was empty, and he was so heavy and I was sure I could, I could do something better. I could make something better of it but the knife was twisted and red and I couldn't hold it.”

“A nightmare?” He ventured coming closer, sitting on the bench with her even when she didn’t move over.

“Then, then, I knew time was running short, and someone would ask soon so I only had to…” The words wouldn’t come to her in French so she shook to Spanish, “Busca- no, hacer algo cosa pero mi tiempo fue corta y yo supio algiun estaba veniendo si yo-"

During her rant turned Spanish mumblings Erik moved back to her side and took her hands again, his cool skin grounding her, "Mia, Mia," The melody of his voice stopped her ranting as she focused on him, "Stop this talk of nonsense, you've done nothing wrong."

Mia stopped talking but her mouth kept moving, even as Erik hesitantly put an arm around her shoulders as she panicked. She leaned into his form, gripping his white shirt tightly as she buried her face in his chest, tears flowing freely now. His tense frame told her he was uncomfortable being held on to but he was holding her to him tighter and tighter as her cries continued.

After a few moments the two, one awkwardly comforting and the other mentally re-running the scene that had effectively changed her life, both came to a comfortable stillness. Erik was almost considering that the girl had fallen to sleep when she sat up on her own and wiped her eyes, "Gracias, I am better."

He stood awkwardly and brushed off his shirt where she had wrinkled it with her grasp, "Goodnight ma chanson," He said leaving the room and Mia sighed once he was gone. It was going to be a sleepless night.

Fingers extended, finding their places, she began to play.

Erik was a surprisingly reassuring teacher at times, and there were times where he was not. Generally, when he was not as kind as he could be it was because he had to be like fencing got more and more difficult and he stopped holding back. But with knife throwing, he always remained sympathetic to her frustration.

She had never been sorer in her life, and that's saying a lot.

They were atop the flyers one night, late in the dark abyss that was the opera house when everyone else was sleeping. She was wearing a dark blue blouse and corset with tight pants and boots that could pass for slippers when worn with a dress but came up to her calf. None of that matter as Erik got a touch on her with his rapier and she almost fell back.

She had to catch the rope to keep from falling, and she whispered quickly, “Yield!” To stop him from making another blow while she was off balance at this height. She heard the sword swipe the air as she re-steadied herself.

He was smirking in the playful way she had come to know, “Don’t tell me you’re tired?”

Mia was definitely tired- so she didn’t reply. Instead she fixed her stance and nodded to the masked man before lunging back into the duel. The metal clanged as she shuffled her feet to keep her upright against his obvious advantage of strength.

He’d sweep above her and she’d be ducking and swiping for his exposed right side. He was faster, his foot kicking her’s from under her and her balance was thrown as she rolled and tipped over the wooden flyer. She knew Erik would not dive out to grab her. This was not a sappy romance and she was not a heroine in need of saving.

Her hand grabbed it at the last second, the sudden movement sending the other side up like a seesaw and Erik stepped back quickly to balance it out again as she got her second hand onto the wooden beam.

Slowly, so slowly, she pulled herself up. The sweat of her brow dampening the strands of her hair that got loose from her braid as she retook the position, “Don’t tell me you’re tired?” She asked in what she meant to be mimicry, but she was gasping for air nonetheless.

Erik forced down his smile and they went at each other again. This time, Mia did not hesitate. She ran head-on, battering away his blow and diving low. She slid for his legs, but he jumped. Her swipe up disarmed him though, and the rapier went clanging to the ground some 30 feet below. Mia stood to face the defenseless Erik who gave no sign of yielding despite her outstretched sword.

He stared at her and she felt those yellow-green eyes at her core, the intensity as he took one step, then another towards her blade. When he got within range, she almost had to spook herself out of the trance his eyes managed to hold her in; she lunged for his chest but he ducked with unnatural speed and grabbed her wrist from beneath.

Erik twisted it and her gasp of pain came right before she dropped the sword. The two struggling, fists attempting to restrain but never at the face. Erik had set that rule.

It wasn’t until she had him pinned to the beam through a lucky maneuver, hands above his head, one leg between his and the other on his side- that he finally accepted she may have beat him.

“Do you yield?” Her voice was joking even if strained from where her face sat 6 inches from his own. Their bodies were touching at multiple points and as Erik took in that tired smile, the messy hair, and the sound of her breathing- all of those points seemed to electrify him.

It was something Mia had noticed early about Erik. He despised physical contact. He was highly intelligent and could carry a sharp conversation any day but when it came to intimacy- he gave it a very wide breadth. This was especially surprising considering his age of… Mia guessed 26 years old. His face was handsome, but the number of scars she'd only caught glimpses of, and the way he seemed to know a little bit about everything told her he was older. 

The place where her hands held his on either side of his head began to spark against his skin, itching to do something. His throat had gone dry suddenly and no words were going to come even if he wanted. Where her knee held his side, he could only sense the skin under the fabric, strong and unyielding. And with her knee in between his legs, the fact that she was leaning up and into him, to all the damned gods he knew of – he prayed to find himself in this position again eventually.

Mia recognized the close to lustful look in his eyes the same moment he recognized the feeling and he felt her hands loosen their hold, “I yield.” He choked out, not wanting her to be spooked.

She would’ve run, he knew. Her old life was not one they discussed. Despite her taunts and teases, he knew what demons looked like. He saw one in the mirror every day. 

The look in those brown doe eyes was that of the wounded animal, but it turned quickly back to the girl’s he knew as she smirked, “Really? You’re so tired already?” She leaned down, further into him until they were almost chest to chest. Erik’s throat bobbed as he kept his eyes trained on hers, ignoring the feel of her on him as her face got dangerously close.

She let her lips ghost his ear while her grip on his wrists tightened, “It seems someone needs a lesson in endurance.” Her tone heavy and implicit as his body went from tensed to downright stiff under her.

Erik growled, a sound she’d never heard from him before and in two movements swung them both over the edge of the beam.

Mia felt the impact hard on the next beam and tried to grab for purchase as the tier swung but her hands were restrained above her head. Positions switched, Erik pressed down on her, keeping the forces equal as the flier evened out. They had only dropped a couple of feet but the shock of it- the utter knowledge of the stage for Erik to have swung them without seeing their landing place had her breathless.

He leaned over her, his frame dominating her easily, and he tried not to relish the feel of her as he met her eye, “Do not push my patience, ma chanson.” His tone was harsh, deep, and not meant for arguing. It was a voice only used on his enemies and she knew better than to think he meant it for her.

Mia sighed as she eyed his mask. He never once tried to touch her, not that she was complaining, it was just odd. Honestly, he was the perfect specimen of young tortured beauty. Then, he has her in the perfect position (well as perfect as balancing on a stage beam can be) and he’s threatening her not to even insinuate it.

Maybe he just didn’t want a former whore. Used goods.

“I am sorry,” Her voice was sincere and his hands loosened their hold immediately.  He was up in the next second, leaving her lying there.

“Get some rest.” He said over his shoulder, and perhaps it was her imagination, but he sounded as breathless as she was.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Podemos llegue un poco tarde?" Mia pulled the blankets over her head and felt a light weight land on top of her.

Erik's voice spoke almost amused, "No, you can't be late for your first box five viewing, it truly is the best seat in the house." He spoke proudly and Mia knew she had to get up- how did he know Spanish again? They had been fencing all day on the rafters, practicing balance and discretion, as well as technique.

She groaned and the door shut just as she sat up, there was a dress laid over her on her bed and her eyes widened. She had bought trousers and shirts to traditionally train in, and Erik had little issue with that seeing how they both acknowledged her dresses would annoy both of them if she trained in them, "Gracias!" She shouted out, knowing he heard her.

She got dressed quickly in the red dress and black lace corset, admiring the handicraft in the mirror. The lace was the darkening factor that made this dress truly risqué and she loved it. The neckline was modest but a dipping-v and the sleeves went to her elbows tightly then lace flowing She had luckily filled out with all the food she would cook and training she was doing and spent an extra five minutes twirling in front of the mirror.

Erik was never patient, "Ready?" He asked from outside and she flattened the skirt once before exiting her room. He was in his usual phantom attire and turned to see her mid-sentence, "I always heard tha-" He froze as he looked at her before recomposing himself and extending a leather gloved hand.

Ignoring his unfinished comment for now, Mia took his hand and he twirled her to inspect the dress on her. He eyed her proudly, "Beautiful." He knew the colors would complement her Hispanic features and form, but he would daresay that she was breathtaking.

She curtsied politely, "Thank you monsieur, although," She grabbed the skirts and swished them delicately, "I do believe it was your choosing."

Erik smiled and bowed a little in response to her curtsy, "Consider it some congratulations, your training is going well."

Without offering or askance she took his arm, as she always would with a male counterpart, causing him to tense at her warmth. She stepped back in careful actions and he examined her carefully, she was not a threat, she was his friend. Finally, amongst the silence she spoke as though it was nothing, "Thank you nonetheless, it's wonderful." He nodded and offered her his arm nervously which she took with relief.

Together they walked through the passages in comfortable conversation and were seated nicely in box 5 as the seats below them filled quickly.

"No one can see us?" Mia asked risking a look down only for him to tug her back harder than he meant to.

"No," His eyes glossed over the stage, "They don't look far enough into the shadows."

Mia sat up properly, with her elbow on the rest between them and winked, "I do believe that is entirely their loss and our gain."

Erik rolled his at her childishness yet smiled amused at the same time, "Fair warning, the new soprano may be completely awful. I was attending to you these past few weeks and wasn't able to be there for auditions."

"You could've taken me! I would've liked it more than whatever we were probably doing that day." He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged, "You're right, I would've been altogether too curious."

The music began to play and the lights dimmed as it began.

They would whisper to each other every now and again, sometimes about key changes and the dancing, other times over whether Don Quixote was insane or intelligent. The new soprano wasn't… terrible. But she wasn't great. Italian, her name was Carlotta and exuded over-confidence.

By the end of the first act though Erik was seething, "How dare they hire her?" He kept his voice down while his hand kept clenching and unclenching, "Her voice is a screech and have you seen that which she calls 'acting'? This will not go on-" He moved to stand.

Mia boldly put her hand over his and pulled him back to sit, "Erik, it's fine, she isn't terrible to the untrained singer's ear, she isn't great but luckily Sancho holds his part and so does Don Quixote. The dancing is above par and the orchestra keeps everyone more or less in tune."

His eyes were trained on her hand still holding his but she didn't seem to notice so he settled for grumbling, "Antoinette did well with them." Mia nodded as he sat comfortably and she patted his hand, letting go. The way Mia's eyes stared at everything, the architecture, the paintings and especially the chandelier, Erik found himself asking, "Have you seen a show here before?"

As though startled by his question, she sat back in her seat, "Why do you ask?"

He raised the visible eyebrow, "It would appear your eyes are drinking up the lights."

She laughed, a pleasant sound, "Are you writing poetry my dear Fantasma? Do I get to be your muse?" She teased.

He rolled his eyes as he learned long ago that her trick to avoid talking about things is to flirt or tease, "With a name like Mia Canta, I'd think you already were." He muttered, deciding to wait out her spell of nerves for a while.

"Your muse? Let's be honest, to fill that role I'd need more than a name." Her tone was still light and Erik tried to follow her eyes.

"And to have a muse such as yourself I'd need a more of a face." He attempted at joking back but by the curious look on her face immediately after he said it, he knew better, "And you have been here before."

Mia decided she had her fun and nodded, "I have, I saw The Flying Dutchman, I think over a year ago now."

Erik mentally groaned, not his favorite Italian Opera, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Not particularly." Her answers were too short and concise, not what he was used to.

"How so?"

The glare she pointed away from him made him regret he asked, "It is customary for a higher edged client to get the lady treatment, in which a date is usually included. By the time last year rolled around my contempt for the entire business had already rolled in. The opera house itself at least gave me some joy."

Surprised by the dread in her voice he paused as the lights went back down. The orchestra began to play while Mia had a praising smile on her face once more. He lowered his mouth to her ear and spoke softly, "You can belong  _here_ , not there." For the first time in forever, Mia blushed but still smiled at Erik fondly before both turned their attention to the stage.

The orchestra made her smile as it rose and fell and before the end she leaned over to her partner, "Will you teach me?"

Distracted from the play he looked at her confused, "What?"

She nodded smiling and pointed down to the pit, "Will you teach me more of those?"

He followed her finger and smiled, "As you wish," The next morning she had a brand new violin. And a flute. And a viola. Those lessons were less stressful but occasionally just as trying.

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Mia twirled, how Erik was so good at buying women's clothes, she didn't know. Perhaps he just had excellent tastes, which would be upheld by his own daily attire.

"Now remember, our connection is nonexistent. You do not live here." Erik lectured, "Be careful about how you talk, what you say," His movements seemed nervous as he actually entered her room and stuck a stray piece of hair back into the prim and proper bun that sat atop her head, "Remember how to act, mysterious but-"

She turned quickly and Erik stepped back, as though surprised at himself, "Alluring. I get it." In the last year of working and eating enough and not starving herself she had filled in appropriately for a girl of seventeen. If she was lucky she could pull off enticing.

 She smiled, "If there is anything I can do, it's acting." She walked to the steps and debated the best way out of the opera to appear, "Can I bring my knives?" Mia had been training every day in throwing knives, with Erik's instruction, and now she was always looking for practice.

He ignored her question, "They are _my_ knives and there's an exit in my room."

She turned to him. He never let her in his room, it was an unspoken rule. She had no idea of what lies behind that door, "It leads to a side street. You could walk up to the opera professionally and objectively." He strode past her and to his door, "Just because I got him to put out interviews doesn't mean I want to force him to choose you." His door opened to a dark room and Mia still hadn't moved, "Coming?"

Quickly, she entered the dimly lit room. As she had suspected, an organ lit with the brightest with candles and it held all dark wood furniture and the moment she set foot on the Persian rug, she had at least twenty questions for Erik later- one of which she didn't wait to express, "What is a coffin doing in your bedroom?"

He sent a warning glare over his shoulder before putting his strength into moving a broken to shards mirror, "Even I sleep occasionally."

"In a coffin?" The words came out louder and higher than she meant them to and she spoke again in a gentler tone, "Is there a pillow at least?"

Erik shook his head at her pitiful attempt to lighten the implication she had just jumped to, "It's not terribly uncomfortable." It was just for convenience, in the long run.

"But why?" The broken mirror shifted finally under Erik's force and a crevice appeared, just large enough for one person to step through it. She knew Erik had some, major, self-esteem issues, but to sleep in a coffin?

He motioned for her to go through the crevice and when she awaited her answer he sighed, "Convenience."

Her next question surprised him, "Are you dying?"

Erik didn’t quite know how to answer a question of such concern, "Aren’t we all?” Her face turned to a patient glare, “If I did…" No one would find him should anything happen, he wouldn't be put to rest, he wouldn't have a funeral, "No one would care."

Neither spoke for a moment. Erik was beginning to fidget at the quiet when she rose to her toes and kissed his exposed cheek precisely with a fond smile, "You're wrong." Without looking back at his shocked, frozen stature, or seeing his eyes still bulging out of his head- she walked through the crevice and up the stone narrow stair case so she didn't have to face whatever reaction he may have.

When she emerged she pushed a heavy door and stepped out into a street. Quickly, she shut the door only to realize it blended right into the brick building behind the opera house. Clearing her throat she walked down to the main street and got a good view of the Opera Populaire, as everyone else saw it- a lit up beacon- not her dark heaven. Managing all the grace of a high society woman she walked up the steps, almost with a tune in her head, before stepping into the foyer, large and round and perfect for a ballroom.

She was humming to herself while walking professionally towards where she knew the manager kept his business though she caught the movement of shadows in the corner of her eyes, and it comforted her.

Mia knocked on the door to the manager's office and when he opened it his eyes widened just a fraction, but she caught them, "Good day senor, I am so ever grateful for this interview!" She batted her eyes and walked right past the older man into his office, "Que edificio bonito senor!" Purposefully, her accent was played up.

The man shook out of his stupor quickly enough and shut the door behind her, "Mademoiselle, I'm afraid there must have been a misunderstanding. A by-manager is no place for a… well for a woman of your stature mademoiselle." He still stood by the door, as if he could wish her well and out soon.

She straightened her shoulders and narrowed her eyes, "Pardon monsieur but I know my French very well."

"That's not what I was referring to-"

"And as for my sex," There was a definite pause as she took a step closer to him and dropped her tone, "Well, maybe a woman's touch is what this place needs." She smirked and stepped back again, "Shall we continue with the interview?"

The manager, Lefevre, took an immediate liking to her after that. The second manager, Polingery arrived late, but once he actually heard her answering questions…

She got the job.

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"I do not like you sleeping in a coffin," Mia said out-rightly one day.

"What?" His white masked face spun from his composition to hers in confusion and she looked around her book to nod at him.

"I don't like you sleeping in a coffin.” Erik blinked cluelessly at her so she continued, "I do not like that you sleep in a place generally reserved for the dead."

Erik tilted his head; he had slept in that coffin since before she was here, why should it really bother her? He wasn't dead yet, "Nothing in this world follows generally-s," Her reactions to him for example.

Mia's laugh was music in the home, "That is true, but it makes me feel a bit uncomfortable that you are so close to death-"

"I always have been."

She knew that he was called the living corpse, but she did not see him that way. His face was down to the small layer of skin before the bone and it was altogether horrifying, but he was not dead, "I denounce that statement," Erik raised his eyebrows gaining some amusement, "And I shall continue to. I have felt like the walking dead, and I can say that since you've taken me on, I feel alive."

"So that is where my life force is going," Erik said teasingly and Mia threw her book at him only for him to catch it and laugh, "Do not worry about me Cher, it is a habit at this point, and I do not mind."

She pouted with her lip out and narrowed her eyes, "And if I do?"

With a smirk, he turned away from her and laughed, "Didn't you say something about staying away from men's beds for a while?" Said in full humor, it was received as such as Mia's jaw dropped before she had to laugh in the incredibility of it all.

"Well in that case, if you ever feel even the least like being alive, you can join me in my bed, there's more than enough room for the both of us." She managed it with a straight face even as he chuckled lowly. 

"Ma chanson, with a heart as black as mine, and one as cold as yours to tease me with, I'm afraid I would suck all the heat from your overly pillowed bed." His fingers began to play the composition he'd been working on, a light piece that made Mia feel like she was hopping on clouds. Strangely though, it also gave the impression that if she were to fall, only a void of darkness waited below her. 

She retrieved her book, playfully hitting him with it on the shoulder as she passed, "Please, I'm sure we'd manage and if not then we'd freeze together. How romantic." 

"Sounds like we'd be better suited for a coffin bed. I can pick one up for you."

She tried not to smile as she went back to reading and refrained from saying that if she ever got him into bed she doubted they'd freeze. Likely they'd combust... or kill each other. She just hoped she was smart enough to avoid it even as more and more she found herself wishing to find out what would really happen if she just kissed him. Had he ever been kissed? He alluded to no situations but she would like to see the surprise on his face, a rare sighting, to know what it would be like to be held by him in a romantic way, to know if he would give her his strength as he does his counsel and his laughter. 

"I think a rich ebony would suit you." 

"Are you really considering my coffin's wood?" 

"These are important decisions." He was still joking, thank god, Mia thought. 

"Well hopefully you'll outlive me anyways and I can come back and teach you, and the rest of the opera, the true meaning of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra." 

"I'd like to see you try." His smirk as he glanced back at her made her heart beat flutter even as she kept her face cool and looked as disinterested as possible at the pages of her book.


	6. Something There

Mia hadn’t seen the true sun in months.

Her face was tilted to the twilight sky in something akin in relief as she let loose a heavy sigh.

Erik restrained the want to hiss at the daylight and pulled her harshly into the shadow of the nearest building with him. She didn’t gasp but her eyes flashed dangerously at him.

“Can’t we just go back?” It wasn’t so much a question at a plea.

Her eyes remained sharp but her mouth grew a smile to match, “But there is fun to be had.” Her tone was conspiratorial, and he couldn’t help but feel her excitement.

Footsteps in their directions made him pull her closer into an alley as common street guards patrolled past them. The fall of the Paris Commune and political civil war still hung in the air over Paris.

Once they passed Erik released his hold and Mia took his hand instead, ignoring his subtle flinch, “Come on,” She said it so softly that no one else might have heard her but Erik with his ears absolutely did.

He pulled his hand from hers and ignored the glance she sent back at him as she led him through the back streets of Paris.

The sun completed setting while they were still stalking through the shadows and Erik felt his shoulders relax and his movements become fluid again. Mia on the other hand only seemed to grow tense with the dark streets of the city of Light. She seemed to be twitching with every bump in the night or tavern door shutting loudly.

She was the one who dragged him out here. She had asked if he’d been to the cathedral of Notre Dame. When he said no, she had made this plan, which he still did not know completely yet.

As the approached, she didn’t bother with the shadows, no, she looked up at the 3 arches that made up the main entrance as if entranced and grinned. Erik was just as entranced at her reaction.

He’d seen the outside of the cathedral before, but her reaction reminded him of how young she was. For all the rough edges Mia liked to show off, she was still an 18-year-old girl.

When she reached back for his hand this time, he did not flinch. They went to the main door and to Erik’s surprise it was open with she pulled on the handle. They slipped in covertly and the inside was so dark that Mia almost stumbled if Erik wasn’t still holding her hand.

“Sorry,” She stared into the darkness of the cathedral as her eyes adjusted but Erik had no such hindrance as he let go of her hand and walked through the space.

The arches, the windows, the vaulted ceiling, it all called to him. The combination of arches and smooth curves of the place seemed to be at odds and yet they added up in perfection together. The alter was garish in its detail, and intimidating in the way the apostles stared down at him- but when looked at from far away Erik could pretend that it wasn’t the focal point.

He heard Mia’s footsteps from behind and then her voice, “That’s not what we are here for.”

His mask almost seemed to glow in the limited light of the church and she pointed to the balcony above the pews where there were choir stands and most importantly an organ. She swung a brass key around her finger and his eyebrows shot to his forehead.

“Where did you get that?” She smiled slyly and turned from him to lock the main door. She proceeded to ensure that each door next to it was locked as well. Her words were oddly detached when they came next, “I knew a guy.” If he saw a single priest in this building he would be sure to remember how she said those 4 words.

She looked around and before Erik could get used to the sadness in her eyes he smirked, “What are we waiting for then?”

The two raced for the closest staircase upstairs and laughed when Mia was not as silent as Erik. At the top of the steps he was stunned by the shear size and majesty of the instrument. His long pale fingers ran through his slicked back black hair and a smile of wonder appeared on his face.

He rounded the bench as if determining a foe before sitting with reverence. Mia walked to the edge of the balcony to look down for a long moment before looking back to him, “What do you plan on playing? Shall I take a seat?”

His chuckle was quiet and the look he threw her way was a smolder of challenge, “Any piece you’d like to hear?”

She leaned back on the balcony’s handrail carelessly, “Étude Op. 25, number 11?”

“Chopin.” Erik started dryly, “You’ve learned nothing.”

Mia tsked her tongue as she came to sit beside him on the bench gracefully, “Impress me then. Your muse demands it.” With their faces so close Erik could see the spark in her eyes, the challenge and the … dare he guess fondness?

He began to play.

Mia felt like she was falling. Chopin did that with his scales but this was different with Erik’s playing. It was like she couldn’t get a handle in anything, constantly falling and hitting every obstacle on the way down. This was a storm now, one that trickled around her as she found her footing and could now run instead of fall. Then she was running with someone else, instead of alone. It was a million shooting stars and a midnight adventure and everything in between.

When Erik stopped she could only continue to stare at the keys, where they had stayed transfixed the whole time.

He did not try to hide his smirk at her silence, so he continued to play.

They went through the masters and some of his own all while Mia enjoyed the show.

This was more mastery than some experience in their whole life, and she lived with him. It stunned her that this awkward, gangly, young man who was so unsocial and yet knowledgeable could understand human emotion and the musical language so well as to create… well, THIS. He literally never went out and talked to people. He was temperamental and harsh but he was also… brilliant and learning. He had kind moments, even caring moments.

Mia’s head began to rest on his shoulder as the night wore on and she participated in prompted duets like Shubert’s Fantasia in F minor, or anything he threw at her that she could pluck out memories of playing with him before. He forgets that people like to sleep so when her head became a little heavier on his shoulder, he stopped.

Her head lifted at his stop and he did not meat her eye as he spoke, “Thank you, for this.” It seemed to pain him to say and Mia yawned with a self-indulgent smile.

“Don’t be finished on my account. I plan on staying till sunrise.” Erik looked at her and then the windows beyond where the stained glass would paint the room in a rainbow shortly.

“When I was a kid, I would sneak into the local church and play the organ. The townspeople caught on eventually, but it was a pleasant hobby while it lasted.” This was a nice variation. It was nice not to be alone. It was also nice not to fear that the balcony was so old it may break or that the organ would one day be un-tunable due to age.

 Mia was staring at him with a quirked eyebrow, “Have you ever danced before?”

He started with the question, “Why?”

She nodded meaningfully, “I would like you to ask me to dance.”

He rolled his eyes, “I cannot play and dance at the same time.”

“No,” She looked down at her lap, a blush rising in her cheeks that Erik could see clear as day in this night still, “But you could sing and dance.”

It was 43 seconds that Erik considered that statement and all that it might lead to before he stood from the piano bench and walked to behind her. He bowed lowly, his hand (gloved once again), held out to her in an offering, “Ma chansom, would you grant me a dance?”

She smiled and stood, putting her hand in his and curtsied, “It would be my pleasure.”

Her free hand rested on his shoulder and his came to her fitted waist and he began leading.

 _“Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness wakes and stirs imagination.”_ The words painted her pictures of their home, the cave by the lake that appeared dark and barbaric except its inherent brilliance and beauty. “ _Silently the senses abandon their defenses.”_ Erik could feel the heat of her hand in his and in the weight of her eyes as she smiled into a twirl.

 _“Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor,”_ Their laughter, Erik’s casual elegance, _“Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender,”_ They were new and soft, and still learning how to fit together, though no toes were broken, neither quite knew how to dance with another.

 _“Turn your face away from the garish light of day,”_ The world of the living was awaking outside as dawn broke and Mia was spun outward, _“Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light.”_ Neither stopped to see the painted colors of the cathedral, instead looking into each other’s as if they had their own secret to share as Mia spun back in.

Her back hit his chest, eyes still locked as he tightened his grip on her, almost imperceptibly, “And listen to the music of the night.” It was only when her gaze flickered to his lips that he stopped singing abruptly to the song, snapping her out of the trace. Both of their eyes widened a fraction before a pounding began on the doors downstairs and they sprung apart.

Both bolted downstairs and to the furthest door, Erik never bothering to let go of Mia as quick escapes were sort of _his_ thing. They snuck out the back and quickly into the shadow of the building, breathless and smiling just as the front doors burst open behind them.

Their walk back was quiet, in a comfortable way as they hopped from shadow to shadow, staying away from crowds for the most part. People still stared at Erik when they did have to pass them and Mia put off of her effort into not making a scene. She had honestly forgotten that the mask wasn’t commonplace.

Mia collapsed on the couch in the living area, tired while Erik retrieved her favorite blanket to drape over her, “Take the day off.” He said jokingly and she snorted with a un-lady-like laugh.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She mumbled before Erik heard her breathing slow and looked back at her with something, that MIGHT be a fondness in his eyes too.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mia sat at the piano in the orchestra area, innocently playing the piano. Really and truly, she was innocent. She didn't even have her knives on her! Sorry, _Erik's_ knives on her.

She wasn't looking for trouble. She had been working as an Arts manager basically, making sure things got done and were ready and that the managers were kept in the loop at all times. Naturally, that made her ability to relay messages from Erik to them and back. She held a bit of pull among the group, simply because she knew how to make an appearance, and what to say.

"Mademoiselle Canta!" Polingery called from the back of the opera and Mia's playing ceased immediately as she looked up, "Thank goodness you are still here, come out to the foyer this instant!" It was late, she wouldn't be here still if she didn't live here.

Her eyebrows creased in confusion making her dark eyes darker, "What's wrong now?" She knew the moment Erik was in the shadows, and hopefully, he was just as confused as she was at the moment.

Gracefully she made her way down the twofold stairs and tried to figure out why she was summoned exactly. Madame Giry was there, or Antoinette, as she called her occasionally, and both managers. They seemed to be arguing in a huddle about something.

"Pardon?" Mia spoke confidently as she went down the center staircase and the argument broke up immediately- causing the focus point to be revealed.

A child. Dressed in a powder blue dress that matched her blue eyes and her blonde hair tied back with a navy ribbon, "What seems to be the issue?"

Madame Giry spoke first, "This child is in need of shelter."

"We cannot just take in child off the streets!" Lefevre, the second and later manager, complained, "The precedent would cause havoc on us."

Mia looked between the two of them, "Have you been outside monsieurs?"

They looked at each other before shaking their heads, "You've never walked around in a corset and dress with no muffler, that I can see, at night with all the horrors of the world ready to descend upon you?" Her words made their eyes widen in fear of the threat in her voice, but still shook their heads, "Madame Giry, what would you have her do?"

Giry spoke proudly, "Train her in the ballet of 'course."

Again Mia just seemed to be inspecting the girl and even went so far as crouching in front of her, "What's your name?" The girl kept her eyes down as she answered timidly and much too quiet for Mia to hear, "That's very pretty but how about you say it louder?" The girl looked up at her shocked but Mia only nodded, "Don't worry about them, just shout your name," She waved a hand at the flippant managers.

"Christine Daae!" The girl said louder yet still not a shout- but it would do, even as she stifled a giggle afterward.

Antoinette smiled secretly under her façade of apathy while Mia extended her hand, "Nice to meet you Senorita Daae, my name is Mia. What has brought you to our Opera house?" She didn't mean 'our' between her and those gathered.

The girl looked down and Mia looked to Antoinette in question, "Her father, Gustave Daae, has recently passed away."

With wide eyes, Mia nodded, "The violinist?" Giry nodded and she spoke, "It is truly a pleasure to welcome you to our opera house mademoiselle," The young girl curtsied low and smiled slowly, "These are the managers, and they will be your new bosses. This is Madame Giry; she will be your new teacher. You will treat them with every bit of respect that you can, is that understood?" The managers grumbled to each other but they were ignored.

The girl nodded and once again averted her eyes down, "Yes mademoiselle."

Mia stood up straight and Poligney and Lefevre began voicing their opinion to her as though the girl wasn't still in the room, "Mademoiselle, Senorita, you cannot be serious. Taking in a girl simply because she asks, she could be a thief or worse for all we know!"

"Christine Daae, too real a name to be made up, and too innocent a girl to lie; she'll fit in well here, after a while. Madame Giry, I presume you will take care of her from here?" The older woman nodded and motioned for the girl to follow her while Mia turned to her managers, daring them to disagree. They looked at each other before speaking numerous complaints. Mia tuned them out and looked over her shoulder for Giry and the girl to be out of the parlor. Finally, when they were she snapped her fingers loudly and the two men stopped confused, "A little compassion, monsieurs, can pay off in the long run. She will do fine here, if she acts out, throw her out. Until then, she'll have a chance." She curtsied once and began to walk back up the stairs.

Because Mia believed that if this opera house got to be her sanctuary it should be welcome to any to claim. At least, in part.

Lefevre started, "Mademoiselle, if she steps out of line-"

"I'll throw her out myself." Mia cut him off harshly before turning to face him and curtsying again, "Trust me senores, I remain your obedient servant."

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"Who's the new ballet rat?" Erik asked one day as the two sat on the right side rafters, his mask obscuring his face and her hood obscuring hers.

"Just another chorus girl, orphaned, needed a place."

He ticked his tongue, "I set a bad precedent with you," Erik knew he would do it all over again. Within the year or so that they have been living together, it was quite clear that the two of them got along. She was growing up with alarming speed, as though it had been stifled by whatever much-too-grown-up things her previous _profession_ – Erik hated referring to it as such - would require of her.

The girls spun and practiced on stage while Carlotta warmed up her scales beneath them and Erik winced harshly at her voice, "What can you do about that?" he still cursed his late of foresight in this regard.

Mia groaned and leaned on her friend almost, her head on his shoulder that made him go as still as possible, "Nothing, I have tried to advocate for her replacement and have only managed to cut down her shows by saying that it was unhealthy for her to sing eight shows a week, so she must let someone else handle two of them."

He rolled his eyes, "Better than nothing if this is her prime though…"

"It'll only go downhill."

They sat there for a moment before the shrill voice of the soprano shouted, "Senorita!" Mia sighed and rolled her head while she could've sworn Erik laughed before he disappeared. Oh, how she was particularly impatient.

Mia jumped gracefully to the floor behind a backstage beam and threw her hood back, "Si Senora?" She appeared almost immediately making Carlotta yelp to Mia’s, and the hidden Erik's, amusement, "What can I help you with?"

After a second of stuttering she began with waving the script in front of the younger woman's face, "Why may I ask, are there two sopranos in this opera?"

The opera itself was new and Mia smiled, "The managers and I agreed-"

"Agreed?" The diva questioned and Mia raised an eyebrow, "There is no agreeing! You do not belong in this place! Our managers can MANAGE without you!" Mia only smiled as the woman ranted and began attracting the attention of everyone around them.

It was a scene, instantly, "Senora, I will accept apologies-" Erik narrowed his eyes at the woman who interrupted Mia.

"Apologies? I do not give apologies; you apologize to me for your insulting acts! You always smiling like you have something to hide, what?" There were a few rumors of how Mia came to be employed there, many of them with scandal, but she ignored them. It was unusual for a woman to be in this workplace as anything but a singer or dancer.

Just before Mia could speak a rafter broke from a chain the wooden board itself came down fast. It smacked Carlotta down like a rag doll and screams erupted from every voice in the vicinity, while hands flew to mouths in shock. Meg Giry, a blonde little angel shouted, "It's the Phantom! The Phantom of the opera!"

Cries of "ghosts" continued for another moment from the ballet brats as Mia met Antoinette Giry's eyes, only briefly. Mia was smiling. Erik liked when she smiled.

"Enough!" Mia's voice carried over them bringing silence. She looked down at the woman still on the ground, in a lump of skirts, "Senora, I have not insulted you," To her face, "The managers and I have picked the opera and it shall remain that way. Auditions are next week. Good luck." She raised her eyes to the rafters, "Buquet!"

A hefty, not-shaved man appeared at one of the remaining over-set rafters, "Senorita, I saw no one! One moment it was fine, the next… crash." Again, Mia smiled, as Carlotta said like she was hiding something.

"Perhaps it was an accident." She offered objectively.

"Or perhaps it was the ghost!" Buquet called down and she smirked again in pride that Erik knew was for him.

"Perhaps," She commented slyly, "Get this rafter hung up at once. Madame, I apologize for your inconvenience," Mia bowed slightly to the dance mistress she simply nodded with an all-knowing-smile, "Carry on." Mia walked behind the stage and into the hallways of the dormitories, leaving Carlotta surely fuming.

Quickly and skillfully she found her way around the opera house and relayed the information to the managers who grumbled at the thought of dealing with an upset Carlotta, yet agreed that auditions could be held within the week. By then it was late enough in the evening that Mia made her final rounds, checking in with everyone and making sure they were all okay and no one was scarred from the previous experience.

Besides the ghost stories it inspired, everyone seemed alright.

Happily, Mia retired to her heaven for the night and joyfully rode the boat in, "That was perfect!" She called across the lake to the figure seated at his piano, filling in notes on paper- composing. As she tied the boat and got out she all but skipped towards him, she noticed the clear proud smirk he wore, "What happened to no association with me?"

Erik shrugged, "Circumstances change, perhaps a puppet of mine in the workings of the opera house wouldn't be terrible."

She scoffed, feigning offense, "A puppet? I think I'm more life-like than that," Looking over his shoulder she examined the piece he was creating as he started to play.

He laughed, "Then the title will be subject to change."

Things began to change. Her fashion, most of which were bought or made by Erik, fit the mysterious air she had carried with her as people continued to question her, especially when Carlotta provoked them.

When with Erik, they kept to dark corners to talk of business matters, or alcoves, or rafters. Whenever they were seen, they would appear just to be two figures- but that, plus Mia's lack of fear towards the Phantom caused the rumors to spread.

Within the six month period that their newest opera prepared, she was becoming as infamous as her Phantom companion; even the managers approached her about their alleged association.

"Senorita, a word?" Mia was the only obvious Spanish person on the workforce, so it was generally her when someone called senorita. She turned from her path to the costume makers, to see her managers.

"Claro si que, what can I do for you monsieurs?" She curtsied humbly with a smile.

The managers looked at each other, she was so sweet most of the time, they felt bad asking her about these ridiculous rumors, "Well, why don't we walk?" She tilted her head curiously innocent as she followed between her bosses.

They walked into one of the less populated hallways and stopped, Lefevre looked around carefully for any unwanted stagehands before talking, "Senorita, there have been some accusations about your… character, as of lately."

"My character?" Her innocence supported by the small gasp she faked.

Lefevre looked to Polingery, who spoke cautiously, "We are not saying if they are true or not, but it may be for the best of the opera house if you…"

Mia felt the hidden eyes on their conversation, "Are you firing me?" At their silence, her face turned from innocence to anger, "Can two grown men, not handle the gossip of an Opera House for fools? Have you perhaps any self dignity?"

The two men looked to their shoes and an envelope slid its way across the smooth floor from a darkened corner- the men turned paler than the ghost they feared. A voice boomed from the opposite direction, "Take heed monsieurs, or worse things can come to you."

Mia smirked not looking into the darkened corner, as to give Erik away, but instead, she picked up the envelope from the ground delicately. With careful fingers, she broke the seal and spoke teasingly, "I have a message from the Opera Ghost." Her eyes gazed over the letter that she hadn't known he wrote but smiled at reading, "He requests my presence continue until he gives the order otherwise, or I become unhappy. I shall no longer be questioned on the topics of gossiping dancers or subject to an interrogation of my actions. The Phantom of the Opera has me under his gaze."

With a final smile, she handed the letter to Lefevre and winked once before striding off, hips swaying, back to her previous task of checking the costumes relative to the cast.

This was her heaven indeed, and she had an angel protecting her. 


	7. "Paramour de l'Fantome"

"It would seem I don't need to think of a different title for you." Erik commented when Mia entered the layer with a basket of supplies she had just bought.

Setting down the basket on the sitting chair, she brought him the ink he asked her to buy, "Oh yea? Why is that?"

He ignored her as he started writing and she throw a roll of bread expertly at his head to make him look up before realizing his cheeks were just a tiny bit red enough to show embarrassment, "Erik! What's my title? It better be good if it can make the Phantom blush."

His head snapped towards her, "Not blushing-"

"Reddening!" She shouted back as she took the rest of the bread and fruit into the kitchen.

She heard him muttering and she ran back out with a teasing smile still, "What was that?"

His struggle was visible before he stood to look her straight in the eye with a stoic face, "There are two titles, although similar, they could mean different things." She moved the basket off the chair and sprawled across it, the armrest under her knees, "The Opera's Mistress, and the Paramour de l'Fantome."

At his words, Mia laughed. She laughed so long that his façade of not being embarrassed broke and he left in a huff to his room. Organ music started not long after this and Mia finally stopped laughing. She settled for a shaking of her head and putting away the rest of the articles she brought home.

She would laugh. She was beautiful, it was laughable that people would even consider him to be with her in that way. She was young, and funny, and clever, and had a perfect face… she would never with Erik. Of 'course, it did nothing for his pride, nonetheless, for her to admit it so bluntly. He knew those of her kind were out of his reach entirely, with a face as terrible as his. Not only that, but he would never- she was younger than him (although by less than a decade and now quite the young woman), and a woman under his care. He couldn't and wouldn't take advantage of her in that way! Nor would he allow any man to do so.

After about an hour, she knocked on Erik's door lightly, a bit scared to be interrupting him, "Erik?"

There was only louder and deeper music, so she creaked open the door, "Are you angry with me?" She waited with her eyes shut tightly for him to yell at her to leave and not come in his room.

No command came so she opened them. His room was dark as usual and his form at the organ as brooding as ever. Despite the beauty of the music, Mia walked in cautiously, to stand behind him. The music he played always sounded better on his organ, which she wasn't allowed to play, and it always sounded better when he played it. She had technique, even he admitted, but still, her playing was less… life-like.

"Erik…" She cooed softly and the animated music stopped harshly. Mia winced.

"What do you want?" The question was just as harsh and cold as the silence.

Straightening her shoulders, as though preparing for a fight, she replied, "I would like to apologize."

"Leave."

"-I would like to apologize for laughing hysterically at the mention of my title."

"Leave," This time it was more forceful, as though through grinding teeth.

Mia continued, "It seems I implied the wrong notion."

"Leave!" This time he shouted and stood abruptly. The piano chair clattered backward, nearly missing Mia's toes as she jumped back, her hand absentmindedly reaching to her thigh where a knife was strapped.

Still facing his back, she took a deep breath, "I believe you mistook my intentions and I would like to clear things up." He turned, with a searing glare in his eyes but she kept talking, "I did not mean to laugh at the implications that my title would imply-"

He scoffed cruelly, "Imply is an understatement."

She went on, "At the implications that my so-called title out rightly accuses. I-"

"Now you accuse me as well?" He asked harshly interrupting her and she paused.

"Pardon?"

He moved over the piano bench and she had to remind herself not to fear him and that the knives on her person weren't to be used against him, even as he towered over her, "You accuse me?"

Mia shook her head, "A paramour is a secret lover Erik, but if the title accuses either of us to be in the wrong, it is me. I'm the paramour, not you." His eyes narrowed and she wanted to hide, "Unless you'd prefer it the other way around."

Her hand gallantly rose to rest on his chest and brought herself closer to him. For a split second of time, neither moved from their places. His eyes almost glowed in the dim light of his room and her eyes flickered to his parted lips for half of a heartbeat wondering if he would have the courage to lean forward. She feared he would but her heart beat faster hoping he would.

He seemed to be searching her eyes for something and then Erik snapped out of his reverie. He took her hand in his cold one and lowered it.

His thumb rubbed the inside of her palm before he dropped her hand to her side. He turned and picked up his piano bench again, "Leave, please," His command was quiet, and Mia obeyed.

Problem is, she really obeyed. Erik exited his room later that night, a point at which he would make sure Mia was sleeping safe and sound before he would go to bed. He had learned this habit because her door locked from the outside and he slept after her and woke before her.

When he opened the door to her room, she was not sleeping, and in Erik's mind, then she was not safe and sound. He searched the catacombs quickly, the maze, the rafters, the piano spots. He was the phantom of the opera and he had no idea where else this girl could be hiding. It was a situation he did not know how to handle. He knew he had to find her, but he could not answer why? Why did he need to find her? She got herself into this, why was she his responsibility? She could take care of herself, couldn't she? Erik decided he didn't want to know any of those answers.

The thought that he dreaded sat in the back of his mind, what if she actually left the opera house?

Mia wouldn't. Couldn't. She, foolishly and naively, loved the opera house. She couldn't leave, even if she wanted.

Frustrated he decided just to go to the roof and look down for any sketchy footprints in the snow, or any lost looking girls on the street. The snow fell softly that day, and a thin layer already formed on the roof. Erik's footsteps crunched as he walked the perimeter of the roof and repeatedly ran his hand over his hair trying to think of anywhere else she would be. He didn't want to think of her going back to that brothel.

Then he stopped looking at the outside world where she might have gone, and caught the sight of a mound on the roof, behind a frozen statue. Erik breathed a breath of relief as he moved quickly to its side. Catching the dark hair lying on the black of her cloak, he pulled down her hood. She must've come right up here after their disagreement because she was very cold. Her lips and eyelids were a scary blue color and he thumbed her cheek with his leather glove, but she didn't respond.

"I'm sorry ma chere."

Picking her up with ease Erik carried her back downstairs and put her in her bed once more. By a parting glance, he knew she had the weapons on her at all times and smirked in pride. He trained her well. Yet, when she was to rest, she didn't need them and he went to reverently taking them off of her, as modestly as he could manage by touching her as little as possible.

There must have been three of his Persian knives that she loved so much. He knew the other seven sat by his piano in a wooden box and replaced the ten together in that box.

Supplying her with heavy blankets and a warm grill by her feet, he realized that he must've scared her a little bit, and yet, she didn't fight him. She just handled him. He checked on her every time after playing twenty measures. It got rather tedious but once he started he could not stop, she created the pattern for him and he needed assurance of her being there still.

Finally, he walked in softly as always but her voice greeted him through the doorway, "Do you ever sleep?"

Erik chuckled, a bit more out of relief than her words, "Can't say I choose your type of beds, that statue didn't look altogether comfortable."

Mia sat up, rubbing her eyes and adjusting to the darkness in the room, she said, "Says the man who sleeps in a coffin." If she was more aware, she may have chosen her words more carefully but Erik seemed to know that because he laughed for real now, "Buenos noche, mi fantasma," She muttered turning over into the blankets for sleep.

"Bonsuir ma chanson."

New Year's was coming up and normally they didn't celebrate. Last two years, Mia got out of going with work because she could but this year, this year she wanted to go. She asked if Erik could arrange her dress and she'd go by herself. It was to be a masque as always, but she planned on making it herself.

"Senorita!" She heard a call from among the dancers as she walked by and stopped.

"Si?" Looking around she caught the two blondes running out of dancing form towards her, one being dragged by the other, "What is it Meg?"

Meg smiled brightly while the other, Christine Daee looked nervously back to Madame Giry, "I was thinking-"

"That could be dangerous-"

"Can we come to the masque this year?" It was so hopeful and childish to be coming from a fourteen-year-old, yet hearing it from her was hard to hear.

Mia sighed, "Why would you want to go to that stinky old ball? Don't the stagehands have their own anyway?" She had spied on them last year, spied on that familiar setting.

Meg looked down and Christine whispered, "Madame would be upset if we were found there."

Mia laughed and shook her head, she figured that was actually for the best in hindsight, "Good, do not go to those, they are probably even worse. If I did not have to go, I probably would not." She still detested the idea of doing anything simply for the pleasure of another or the prospect of dancing, but at the same time, it excited her.

"Then why are you going?"

"Because I cannot lie another year in a row," The answer spilled out of her mouth but she only smirked in response while the girls giggled.

Suddenly a bang of Madame Giry's staff on the wood of the stage made the three jump, although Mia wouldn't admit it, "Meg, Christine, stop bothering Senorita Canta! You've got toes to point!" The two scampered off to their places once more and Mia smiled at the strict teacher, who returned with one of her own. They were not terrible girls to talk with.

Mia continued her walk and remembered the holidays at her companion house, then shuddered. Nonetheless, she didn't mind looking pretty and hadn't engaged in any social activities within the opera house, which might-have-possibly-sort-of made her anxious.

The night before the masque, it seemed Erik was upset because he pounded on his organ in his room and there was no sign that he had left that room, except her dress. It was stunning, as always, and laid across her bed.

Its bodice was white with a skirt that became a deep pink. Real flowers were sown into it and along the crepe skirt. It flowed and trailed when she walked. Everything about it was perfect and even she admitted she looked like a goddess. Brown and green fabric twist and meshed with her white bodice to appear as branches and leaves while the petals and buds appeared to naturally grow from her.

Persephone. One of her favorite stories that she’s read since being down here.

Excited and filled with inspiration she quickly went to making a mask. She ran to the market and picked up a dozen pink flowers and one pomegranate for the top half of her face. Once home it was late but she didn't know or care as she made her mask with care.

The next day, she regretted it. No practice today to look over or manage but since she was available she was set with making sure everything was prepared. Everyone seemed to share her ideas to get it over with and they were done in no time. Back in the lair, she realized Erik and her hadn't spoken in over twenty-four hours.

"Erik?" No response, "Erik, I'm going to be getting ready for the masque." No response.

How odd.

The lights were twinkling and the parlor of the opera house was bright with gold and white lights as the orchestra played beautifully and couples parried across the dance floor. Music was loud and many fake smiles but for once, Mia did not mind. She walked down the stairs behind the managers with their women, and behind her was Antionette who raised her eyebrows at the strapped back of the stunning dress.

"You look lovely my dear, the dress seems, original." The older woman commented coming to her side at the bottom of the stairs and Mia smiled.

It was original, "Thank you, Madame, I bow to the creator of it wholly."

Antionette nodded and was interrupted by a male voice, "A dance mademoiselle?"

A white-gloved hand was extended to her and she sighed but smiled pleasantly nonetheless, "Of course monsieur." Relinquishing her hand to the man, she was taken to the dance floor.

Erik watched from above, the rounded ceiling provided a few ledges, and he saw what he had suspected. She did miss her life, despite denials. She missed the garish light of this life; although she got glimpses of it through the day of the opera life- she still missed it.

How couldn't she? How could he expect her not to? A child of this world belongs in this world. With every wink, flirtatious smile, and quick dark-eyed look, he grew more enraged. She had been lying to him, using him.

This was what she wanted, this life of parties and men and dresses- no wonder she found the opera house architecture fascinating. She didn't want his darkened cavern of traps, monsters, and riddles. She wanted dolls, dresses, and shoes.

Mia was passed continuously and never stayed with one partner for more than one dance. It was a pattern, "May I have this dance mademoiselle?" or "If you please mademoiselle?" Funny thing though, men do not ask. They tell. It is not expected for you to deny them, and she did not tonight.

Then, someone asked, "Would you grant me a dance, ma chanson?"

A black half mask, which continued to his upper lip, and had two fearsome looking horns replaced his usual side face one and his suit appeared to be the color of the moonless night sky, "Anytime mi Fantasma." Her smile was enticing as it had been all night yet pointed at him he admitted the effect to himself. When she placed his hand in his, he stopped himself from withdrawing.

His mouth was frowning as he took up her waist carefully and barely touching it. They glided effortlessly, "How long have you been here?" She asked.

"You did not see me?" He responded although he reminded himself, why should she have been looking?

Mia's eyes rolled, doing nothing for Erik's patience, "You have not spoken to me in days, I thought it would be another day before I'd get to thank you for this masterpiece," She complimented the dress as she spun and Erik stopped himself from looking at it again, from looking at her again. It truly looked fantastic on her.

They danced in silence as songs changed and this became her only dance lasting more than a song, "Do you like this life?"

The question was so soft that Mia thought she heard wrong, "What life?"

He scowled, "One of dancing and ball gowns and lights."

"No," His face changed instantly, "I like the life of dresses made just for me, a darker side that only I know, being able to control and do what I like, all complete with the music of the night. I like that life," She answered simply and without thinking. Erik was stunned to the point that he tripped on her foot and her laugh chimed him from his stupor, "Why do you ask?"

Embarrassed he shook his head and focused his attention everywhere else, but her, "No reason."

Mia moved closer to him to cut off a line of sight elsewhere, "Erik?"

His green eyes looked into her brown ones, though in this light they looked golden and his glowed. Erik could not lie to her when they were this close, and she looked at him so imploringly, "You looked happy."

Smiling her grasp on his hand tightened, "And now I feel happy." His curious look made her continue, "Erik, I'm good at looking happy, and I'm used to having to look happy. Right now, I am happy, because I feel that way, not because of anyone else. I like not being owned," Erik could understand that.

"And you're happy with all the male attention in the room?"

Her eyes narrowed at him, "I don't have all the male attention in the room," His scoff made her laugh, "I don't have yours."

This time Erik simply tightened his hold on her full hip and spoke lightly, "What told you that?"

Mia laughed now out rightly, and the sound was enough to make Erik laugh with her, "My apologies, if I had known I would've put some effort in," He knew her well enough, and now being here with her, to know that all of this, all the flirting and the tight smiles, was an act. But as she allowed the dance to pull them a step closer, almost touching, it was hard for Erik to remind himself of that.

They had begun to draw attention, between how they moved and because it was clear that they were familiar with each other. And Mia Canta was not familiar with anyone. She only took in his mask more carefully before smiling mischievously, “Are you my Hades?”

She didn't mean to flirt, that is just her behavior. It must be because she does the same to him out of kindness Erik reminded himself, “I make you a dress and suddenly you think yourself a goddess? We must work on your humility.”

Her laugh chimed as he spun her out and then back in, “

Just then, a third song was starting and a scream rang out. It was high pitched, fear, childish, and entirely bloodcurdling.

Mia and Erik both snapped into the action motion of standing side by side, although he still held her hand from their dancing, as their eyes narrowed at the source of the scream.

A blonde teen, hung from the edge of the rounded ceiling, tens of meters into the air, "Erik," Mia whispered as she looked to Antoinette- whose hand covered her mouth and eyes widened. This wouldn't end well. The rounded ceiling was seventy feet in the air and a small doorway that led to the attic could take the monthly cleaners to the narrow two feet wide ledge that wrapped around the circle.

Meg held on by her hands to the molded edge and all the guests looked up frightened, expecting her to fall. Erik only had to apply slight pressure to Mia's hand before they were both moving quickly through the crowd, not caring if they called attention to themselves. They were the only ones moving, and Mia's skirts annoyed her as she followed him up the corridors that they both knew so well.

She grabbed the rope they ran past and caught up with him, "Erik we have to-" They reached the attic and she took a deep breath, "We can't scare the child."

His eyes narrowed at her before he understood, "You're an intimidating figure Erik, and masks don't help."

"She knows me Mia!" He argued back and his protectiveness for the Giry family was something Mia had only assumed until now.

Calmly Mia put a hand to his shoulder, "I know, she knows you more as the phantom, she knows me too, and I have a less frightening presence. We do not need to scare her to the point she lets go. That and you don't want to be seen!" Before he could respond, she stepped through the door to the ledge and gasped at the height.

"This is high," She muttered before turning her eyes to the two lone hands on the ledge a quarter more down the circle of the ceiling, "Meg?" She said loudly and she heard a small sob among the noise from below where people began to see her.

"Senorita?"

"It's Mia, Meg, that's my name, alright? I'm going to help you up," With careful steps Mia walked along the ledge to the two hands and gently placed her hands over them, only to feel their shaking, "I'm going to pull you up, try not to move as I do, okay? Even if you think it'll help me, I can just lift you if I keep my balance."

Crouching down, Mia's hands wrapped around each of Meg's wrists and she pulled and she stood slowly, dragging the girl with her. Meg did not listen to her, however, and when she got enough up the ledge, Meg tried to bring her feet up but wasn't high enough. Her feet swung under the ledge, her weight shifted and so did Mia's, who faltered forward and Erik could hear her intake of breath as he watched from the doorway. She caught herself on the ledge before falling over it, but she let go of Meg's one hand.

"What did I tell you?" She shouted, rhetorically but angrily at the fear she just experienced- the floor below them gasped and she heard another sob from the girl.

"Mia, please?" Meg said and Mia sighed, her shoulder starting to hurt.

Regaining her footing, she stood with Meg's one hand tightly held, "Meg, reach for the ledge." The girl did as asked and this time, Mia wasted no time. Quickly she took both hands and pulled quickly and sharply upbringing Meg right onto the platform in a quick three seconds. Erik was impressed, even as she helped the younger girl up and Meg collapsed into her crying and the crowd below cheered.

Moving behind the scenes, Erik shut down the lights, making the applause stop at it was pitch black and he heard Mia's question, "Erik?" It wouldn't be heard below with all that other noise but he heard it clear as the moon in the sky.

He appeared at her elbow on the ledge in a heartbeat, "Here." He said quietly and Meg continued holding onto Mia as he led them off the ledge and into the attic before turning on the lights once more. Mia patted the hair of the youngest Giry as they walked down with Erik leading.

When they returned to the general hall Mia let out a sigh of relief finally and he spoke softly, "That was good," He disappeared back into the tunnels and Mia exited them with a clinging Meg still.

"Dulce, it is okay, we are on the ground floor. What possessed you to do that?"

"I wanted to go to the party," The small voice commented and Mia smiled, that would've been a good excuse when she was a young age too.

They came to the entrance of the staircases and Mia patted her hair again, "Do you want to go in? Or would you prefer I get your mother from here?" The look on Meg's face answered that question as her legs still shook and she didn't need her mother being upset in front of everyone who almost saw her fall. Mia decided to test her skills and voice manipulation as she stood, still in view of Meg, but in the corner of the doorway.

Catching sight of the Madame she spoke carefully, "Madame. Madame Giry," She watched the woman turn to the voice only to see no one and she smiled, "Towards the door, your daughter would like to see you." In that instance, Antoinette's face turned to the door and caught Mia's eyes.

Mia turned back in and knelt to Meg's level, "I have to go, but please, little Giry, do not do something that stupid again," She kissed the blonde head with a smile as the girl hugged her, "I know, just be careful," Mia stood as she heard the heels of the dance mistress, "Happy New Year Girys." She commented as she began to move to a side hallway with a quick exit when the Madame turned the corner to her daughter.

A tearful reunion, that was sure to become a little scolding in the next few minutes, occurred and Mia's smile dropped as she slipped into the tunnel was met by her phantom. They walked home together, Erik humming the tune they danced to.

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An awful hacking sound made its way through the acoustics of the well-formed lair and he sighed, "Stop lying," Erik commanded from a sketch he was working on and Mia who sat on the seat she always sat on looked up surprised at the noise.

"I'm not lying, I'm fine," She insisted. Her head pounded and she positioned herself away from the light of the lair. Ever since she woke up, her head relentlessly ached and she wanted to just take a long bath or go back to sleep but her head did not allow her that privilege. Not to mention she could only breathe through her mouth and it rattled even then occasionally or made her voice sound clogged, "It is just a headache."

Erik looked up from his work to see her positioning, hunched and curled in a shadow with her eyes squinted, "You have a migraine." She had been holding her head quite a bit.

It was a statement and not a question, so Mia didn't reply, but he didn't need her to as he stood and walked over her, "Erik, I am fine, I'm just uncomfortable," He ignored her completely and crouched down to be even with her. His hand made contact with her forehead and she gasped at the coolness of his hand making him pull back, "No, it's fine," She reassured him as he replaced his cold skin to hers.

His face contorted and his head tilted, "What hurts?"

Mia gave up to him, "My head, and my throat."

"No pain in your side?" she shook her head, "No iching?" Again, her head shook and he nodded, "Go to bed," He said and she narrowed her eyes but before she found a reply he turned and pointed to her room, "Get. To. Bed. Now." She tried to push herself further into the cushions and crossed her arms in a pout.

“Leave me alo-!” Her words turned to an indecent yelp at Erik smoothly reach under and around her to lift her up in his arms. Even in her childish pose, her hands grabbed at his chest and she blushed at his laughter.

“Why do you have to be so infuriating?” Erik mumbled it as he carried her to her room, ignoring her prettily upset face below. Instead he focused on pulling back the covers with one hand and dropping her into the bed as gently as possible. She glared as he stalked out of the room.

Why he sent her in here, she did not know- it wasn't like she would fall asleep anyways. Then, a familiar smell entered the room. Soon, Erik entered with the tray she would leave by his door if he didn't come for conventional meal times. On the tray rested a bowl with, if Mia guessed right, soup, "You do it so infrequently I forgot you cook."

Erik did not comment but put the try on her lap as she sat up and stood several paces from her bed, "You need to eat all of that."

She tried one spoonful and knew that would not be too hard, "I do not think that will be an issue, you can sit down if you want."

His eyes seemed to take in her room for the first time as if she had given him permission with that statement but his hands were wringing, "Are you cold?" She could feel the nervousness rolling off him.

Erik looked at the young woman, she knew nothing of illnesses. He had seen people die from it, and she is acting so relaxed about the situation. Granted, he had caught it early enough and she was completely responsive which helped, "No, I'm quite cozy, thank you." Her coughing fit began once more and Erik winced at the sound before waiting for her to take a few more spoons of soup.

 He made his way to leave and Mia knew that she’d be incredibly bored without him, "Erik?" He paused and looked back thoughtfully, "I don’t suppose you’d be willing to play me something?”

As though he did not hear the question, Erik left the room and Mia sighed in defeat. Two minutes later, he reappeared with two cases in her doorway and her pale face lit up, "May I?" He indicated to the seat by her dresser ever the gentleman.

The sweet sound of the music was the soundtrack of her greatest dreams, and while awake it made her smiled and frown and feel anger- but always left her happy. After several songs she got the feeling he was purposely trying to put her to sleep because the music seemed to enchant her eyelids to closing.

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Mia was treated either with more respect or more fear, for no one doubted she got up there with the Phantom's help, and that she had a mysterious man dancing with her for an unusually long amount of time. It didn't matter though, she carried herself the same. Between piano, managing, cooking, cleaning, and shopping, she was too busy to worry about impressions. Plus, she wasn't the Opera's mistress for nothing.

Softly, the melody awoke Erik from his rarely gotten sleep and yet he didn't find himself angry. It was surprisingly beautiful, in fact, he was sure it was his own music. Glaringly, he got up and unlocked his door. He walked into the main lair only to lean against the door at the figure of Mia in her night robe and gown, playing the piano, his scrawl resting on the stands in front of her. It was his music she played, but a few notes and chords were inserted. He stood there, pinpointing them before moving closer, he memorized the places she inserted music. It sounded fantastic, as much as he'd hate having his music improved, he would dare say that she did.

Suddenly, she stopped, "Did I wake you?" She asked with concern and he side-smiled.

"Yes," She turned on the bench to face him with a frown, "Did you change my music?"

Her face turned to fear, "I didn't change it on the paper, I just played it differently."

He shook his head and moved to join her on the bench, "Play it again," She played it again, just as she would.

Together they made changes. They made music of the night, and when Mia yawned it must've been hours into the morning now. A new song was already completed between the two of them.

"I've got to get upstairs, make sure nothing has started on fire without me.” It must have been dawn in the World of the Living. Mia disappeared momentarily, putting on the many layers of her daily clothing.

Erik was mumbling as he scribbled down notes, inspired now as he called out, "Surely, that is the only alternative to you caring over them."

Mia returned to grab her velvet black and embroidered cloak, "Obviously, I'm surprised it hasn't burned down already." She laughed and he smirked from his place as she disappeared from the lair to her job.

When Mia returned way past dinner she was tired and hungry. Their tenor had walked out during rehearsal and the cast was a mess of distractions. Erik's music didn't help either, for beautiful as it was, it acted like a lullaby until he saw her.

"Mia, come here, tell me what you think." It was a command she couldn't bring herself to deny so she sat beside him on the bench as he played from the beginning.

Flittering, the notes filled the room and she found her eyes drooping as she rested her head on Erik's shoulder, which made one wrong note get hit but she barely noticed when he picked it back up. He looked over at her long lashes that rested closed while her hair fell on his shoulder as well. The music only grew lower and Erik considered stopping so she could go to bed but when the serene smile grew and she nestled into his shoulder comfortably, his considerations stopped.

The song began like something akin to a lullaby but then it… changed.

Mia felt the shift in the room, the music taking on an allure. Her senses woke up, one by one. First, her ears picked up even the most subtle of tones, the seductive air.

He began humming, against his better judgment, which became singing,

“ _In your mind, you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me. Now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you've decided, decided_.” She had rarely heard his voice but when she did it always had an effect on her.

Her eyes focused on his profile, lifting her head off his shoulder, to look at him, to debate kissing his neck.

Why would she do that?

His voice was so beautiful, so sincere, “Past the point of no return. No backward glances. The games we've played till now are at an end.”

As he continued, she could feel her skin getting flushed, her hand itching to rest on his leg next to her, to have his hands with their tentative fingers brush her skin and his lips on her neck – Her breathing hitched at the sensation.

She took a heavy breath and cocked an eyebrow, “How are you doing this?” When he looked at her, her eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed. The sight took his breath away and he looked back to the piano quickly.

“Doing what?” He asked in a half-joking tone.

Without him singing it was easier to resist the pull and Mia had her confirmation, “How do you sing in a way that makes me wish you were taking me on this piano?”

She’d always known his voice had a hypnotic trance to it but his songs were usually not like… this.

His playing cut off with an awful sounding chord and his head turned sharply to look at her. Her smile grew slowly and his to match, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He didn’t have that _exact_ image in mind anyway, but she was his muse for a reason.

His playing resumed, more peaceful. Lovely, even. Mia watched him still and admired him nonetheless. He began singing in Italian this time, and although Mia did not know the tune, it was a lullaby.

Slowly, the anxious hot feeling left her and was replaced with a soft airy dreamlike feeling. Her head found its place on his shoulder again.

Carefully, Erik stopped playing and Mia took a deep breath, showing she was still awake, "Que bonita mi fantasma."

He smiled at her tired voice and nodded, "Gracias mi chanson. It looks like it is time for bed for you," His hand moved to her opposite side, prepared to pick her up but she stood on her own and stretched while Erik took care not to look at her limber body bending - one cannot miss what they never had, he reminded himself.

Mia yawned and began to walk up the steps to her room and then stopped in the doorway. Erik noticed and called, "Something wrong?"

Her hair shook and she looked back, "Cassia. Cassia Chantel." His brow furrowed and her mouth twitched in the formation of a small smile, "That's my name, although I'd be your song any day." Even her flirting now must grant comfort while Erik stayed frozen on the piano bench with wide eyes at her.

Sleepily, she slinked away and Erik stayed in his paralyzed position.

When morning came, Mia got dressed late and moved out holding a parasol as she skipped down the stairs, "I'm going to the market while I'm up there, do you need anything?" Her voice was light and pierced the darkness of Erik's room where he sat with his organ, writing furiously.

With no response, Mia turned for a tunnel when the voice of her friend came, raw and stoic, "Destler."

She turned on her heels in surprise before comprehending his word, "Pardon?"

He raised an eyebrow, condescendingly, "Erik Destler, that's my name, although ghosts don't need names," It was a name he chose for himself, but it was better than taking his mothers.

Her smile widened and she laughed in a way that made Erik's doubt about telling her a name, even the made up one, disappear in seconds, "Of 'course they do, what else will people call them?" In his mind, Erik didn't need a name- and to Mia, he was ridiculous.


	8. We Have Our Seasons

It came time to be hiring a new tenor male lead for their rendition of Faust and Mia sat in a front row, right between the managers with paper. Her attention was rapt while she took notes, attempting to find the one to make her master and friend most appealed. She dreamed the image of him singing on his own stage one day, his own words. He deserved nothing less.

Meanwhile, the dancers had been released from practice for the night and one of them sat alone in the glimmering darkness of the chapel.

In the candlelight she kneeled, talking to her deceased father. She was plead for her angel.

That one dancer was changing her life without knowing it.

Her voice sung out to a passing ghost who found himself drawn to her.

Erik adored her radiating purity and innocence, her blonde tresses and bright blue eyes, her pale skin and small lips, her entire _essence_ of _perfection_.

She was beautiful.

Her voice was raspy as she sung the psalms to her prayerful dead- yet Erik could only see the potential that her voice could have. She was everything opposite of all that he had- She was everything he could ever want.

She could be the best soprano to grace this opera house, and he could train her. He would adore her and only give her what she deserves- and anyone with her perfection deserves the world.

He would be her angel, and she could be his light.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You'll be hearing from us senor, gracias." Mia said frustrated with their efforts of finding a tenor being in vain. The hopeful man left the stage as the managers groaned in perfect study with each other and Carlotta tapped her foot impatiently on stage, "This is a nightmare."

Her head was hurting and, after about six more auditions, she was ready just to get back to the lair. As she parted with her managers they agreed to discuss tomorrow to have time to think over their decisions.

The music calmed her temples as she descended to her home and Erik was playing the piano lightheartedly with a smile on his face. His music was missing a few notes but Mia could only glare, "I can tell someone was not at Tenor auditions."

Erik didn't stop playing, "What does that matter? I have found an angel in my hell that shall surpass all in the opera house. A million tenors and sopranos could sing for me and I'd only hear her!" He couldn't stop thinking of what they could be- together! His song and her voice, they would be… perfection. For once in his life, he could be a part of _perfection_.

Mia was confused, to say the least, "Oh? And tell me Romeo, have you had a change of heart towards our Carlotta?" She joked hoping to figure out more of this enigma but something inside of her broke at the idea of Erik finding in angel, and that he still considered this a hell. That he did not think of her as enough.

His music stopped and he turned on the piano bench, "Never! My angel will be more than Carlotta hoped to be. Her voice has inspired my music, though I have not heard it till today." He trailed off to begin playing again. Mia shook her head and retrieved an apple from the kitchen.

"Add an e chord, it'll help." Her comment was ignored as he went on.

"And her eyes Mia, her eyes are that of the sky!"

Mia found herself wishing she could reply 'how would you know?' -But she bit her tongue.

Instead, "And who is this new muse?" Although her tone held hints of mockery and a healthy dose of hurt, Erik's daze of puppy love didn't even see it.

The music paused as he smiled, "Christine Daae." Her name rolled off his lips with a sigh and Mia hit her head on the back of the chair she occupied.

The poor girl. As she looked at her pale dark haired gloriously talented friend she wondered where she might have gone wrong. What could she have done better?

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The new tenor was young, and Carlotta adored him, which helped their chemistry (can't say affection ran both ways but he was a decent actor). He was a gentleman who truly wanted a chance, and Mia empathized, so she supported his rise to lead tenor for a season.

She helped Killian, when he needed it. It was part of her duties, and a little beyond. Just a dinner here and there when she was helping him late, but they weren't friends. Then again, Mia didn't have enough friends to have a good definition of friend.

The Giry’s were close, and Nadir’s was a name she knew she could use but in her heaven, people were few.

Her companions included the bound Odysseus and Penelope, the doomed Romeo and Juliet, the independent Anna Karenina, the tragic Medea, the inspiring Lysistrata, and the defiant Sharhzad. All fictional.

She only had Erik, who had been either love sick or angry at her lately- and she didn't know why.

"I made dinner if you want any." Mia informed her roommate as she walked by, only to realize he was not present.

After a quick scan of the lair and bedrooms, she realized he wasn't here at all. More than a little curious, she donned trousers and a simple shirt to go adventuring. Mia ran deftly through the caverns, listening for any noise or sign of Erik. It was like a game.

Then she heard the twin voices, one of whose she'd never miss. Erik's and the girl's, Christine's, were chiming together in a beautiful duet that Mia could not deny.

"Thank you Angel." The girl spoke when they finished and Mia worked to find a passage out of the tunnels to the hall of the chapel. When she found her way to the doorway of the chapel Christine spoke still, "Can I meet you yet?"

Erik's voice was soft and, as Mia as noticed before, angelic, "No my child, not now, you must train hard for we have lots of work to get down."

"But I'm tired." The sixteen-year-old complained.

"Your father would want you to work harder, so he could be proud as ever of you as the stage's soprano. " Mia sighed outside the door at Erik's methods. She knew he liked the child, but puppy love is one thing, this was heading towards another.

Christine's voice continued with his instruction and Mia left them, troubled on multiple scales.

He was doing harm to the child and to himself- neither of the two did she wish to see run its course. Instead of going back to the lair, she went to the pit and began playing the music she knows by heart from below.

The piano up here allowed the sound to vibrate, and no one would disturb her most likely. She was wrong.

"Senorita?" A soft voice asked and Mia stopped immediately to spin towards the sound.

With a sigh, calming down the speed of her heart, "Meg, what are you doing out of bed?"

The girl had grown into a very beautiful young woman, and an even prettier dancer. Her tone always matched her face, innocent and caring, "I was looking for Christine and I heard your music, I thought I'd see if it was…"

"If it was Erik instead?" Meg nodded, "No, just me, didn't your mother tell you not to search him out?"

Meg shrugged and Mia looked closer trying to figure out what she was hiding, and then she spoke clearly, "The music sounded sad." Her reasoning was so funny, Mia laughed.

"Well, I am not sad, but thank you for checking up on me, and I hope you find Christine soon." Mia got up and left the pit and Meg as she disappeared into a tunnel. She wasn't sad. She wasn't mad. She was worried for her friend. And for the potential of his heartbreak.

 And of her own if she wasn’t careful.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Opening night of Faust, Erik had instructed her not to be late. She was backstage helping get Carlotta's dress laced as the diva warmed up. Giving times and going over cues, she then moved to the stage and ignored Baquet's rude glances that became more frequent and checked the articles that littered the sidelines. Everything was essential for its place and nothing was missing.

Just as she was going to slip out and grab a cloak to go sit with Erik, her arm was grabbed. Despite her hand itching to grab a knife, she restrained at the sight of her grabber, "Killian? Something wrong?"

The handsome young man shook his head and smiled, "No, but I wanted to thank you, I know things get hectic afterwards so I wanted to thank you now." Mia smiled back at him and covered the hand that held her upper arm with hers; a shadow flickered in the corner of her vision.

"Of course, you'll do great!" He looked like he wanted to say something else, yet Mia knew she was going to be late now anyways so she went to her toes to kiss his cheek. At the contact he let go of her and smiled in a similar way that Erik did these days and Mia was able to get away.

The performance went fantastically. Erik didn't speak a word to her, except that she was late, and that the tenor wasn't as good as he hoped.

It got hectic after and for the first night, Erik was actually home at a decent hour, but Mia didn't ask because she didn't want to know. She resolved to just being happy to see him. She shed the out layers of her dress and put on a more comfortable robe before going to check on her roommate.

“I don’t suppose you’d like a glass of wine?” She asked hesitantly from the kitchen doorway.

Erik looked up from composing blankly. For a moment or two he did not respond at all, simply stared at her. Then, “I trust your fine tastes.” A sly smile.

She poured two glasses and went out to sit next to him on the piano bench, pointedly ignoring the awkwardness between them. They both drained one glass a piece and were onto their second when Mia finally spoke.

“Erik let’s go do something together. Please?”

He paused in his scribbling of notes to take a sip of wine, “We do a lot together.”

Mia stopped herself from laughing, “Lately we’ve been busying.” His eyes flashed to hers and she continued quickly trying to stop a fight before one started, “I respect that we can live separate lives and have individual ambitions but do you not miss our adventures even a little bit?”

He laughed brightly, “Adventures? You get into trouble and me helping?”

“Hey! It was also me getting US into trouble and US getting out of it.”

They looked at each other and Mia felt that spark that she had ever since the night he took her in. But then the spark was gone as his eyes darkened and he drank the rest of his wine, “Does your lover know you live here?”

Mia’s eyes narrowed, “I have no such thing, Erik.”

His laugh was dark now and made Mia’s skin crawl, “So the new tenor just enjoys taking liberties then?”

She stood from the piano bench and downed her wine, “Killian is nice but I would appreciate you not listen to everything the ballet rats whisper.”

“I saw you kiss him Mia, there’s little heresy in that.”

“On the cheek! I was already late for the viewing and I knew how to shut him up.”

“What a fine technique then.” Erik was too focused on the papers in front of him to realize that she hadn’t walked away but towards him, “I can understand the app-“

He was cut off as a warm softness came in contact with his exposed cheek. Her smile was all mischief, “Please can we go do something?”

Erik was dumbfounded and stared at her for a long while, long enough that Mia’s face fell and she began to walk away, taking the wine bottle with her. She missed him raising his fingers to his cheek in befuddlement.

“What did you have in mind?” Erik asked just as she reached the hallway and she spun back to him with a smile bright enough to outshine the moon.

It was a lovely August night and the darkness of the roof top was not alarming as Mia spun, her skirt rippling out with her momentum. Erik watched with something akin to fondness.

She had grown into herself and this was a perfect example. Her hair half bound up into a bun, the rest waving down her back. She never liked drawers since she wore pants often enough around the payer. She preferred light chemises for evenings, this one was a deep blue and bound by her corset’s ties still, and it wove around her as she spun with all the grace that someone born to the shadows deserved. Her cloak was a thinner one of gauzy black, a gift from him for the warmer months. She looked so at home up here with the statues of exquisite beauty and artiste.

He took a swig of the bottle they brought up to the roof before offering it to her with an outstretched hand. She came back to him, stumbling only a little into his free hand, it coming to the curve of her waist naturally as if made to fit. The bottle was placed on the rooftop as she pulled him along with her.

“You designed this place,” It wasn’t a question so Erik didn’t answer as he followed her in the darkness to the edge of the roof, “Did you do all of the statues too?”

She leaned precariously over the edge to get a better look of one such statue facing out into the world of the living. Erik protectively held onto her waist, pulling her back onto the roof securely but she hardly seemed to mind as she looked at him in wonder, “I chose the artists and the themes.” What he wouldn’t give to always have her looking at him like that.

She smiled up at him and it was then that he realized he was still holding her in his arm. He seemed to stop breathing at the same moment she did, their eyes locked.

Her eyes sparkled with a million things but none of them fear or disgust. He found his gaze flicking down to the mouth that had touched his cheek with such sweetness.

“Mi Fantasma, would you grant me this dance?” He’d asked her once. This was her turn.

When he didn’t respond immediately she added, “Do not worry, the moon is not even out to bear witness to the Phantom of the Opera dancing.”

He looked up at the moonless sky and smiled. Mia’s heart skipped as she read the sincerity in it, “The pleasure is mine, Ma Chansom.”

They both knew how to dance with one another by now, and they slipped into form effortlessly. Erik had to remember the first dance they shared, bodies closer than he’d ever been to a girl in the balcony of Notre Dame after a night of playing to his heart’s content in one of the largest churches in Paris.

He began to hum softly at first, and savored the step closer she took towards him, the space between them shrinking.  

“Once there was a night beneath a moonless sky. Too dark to see a thing, too dark to even try.”

She giggled, and he could feel her breath against his neck at their closeness. He fought the heat that seemed to threaten his face as he asked bluntly, “What’s funny?”

“You’re ridiculous,” She cleared her throat and did her best imitation of his infuriatingly enchanting voice, “Beneath a moonless sky!” He laughed, a true laugh at her teasing. In an effortless motion he lifted her by her waist and spun them, her surprised shriek turning into laughter as well.

When her feet graced the roof once more he brought them back into the dance, “What would you like to hear then?”

She hummed in thought while they moved together, “I can never trust myself with your voice.” The words were like ice to Erik but Mia appeared not to consider it an insult.

“I doubt anyone could convince you to do something you do not want to.”

She was silent for a long while and Erik began thinking back to any times he sung in front of her, any times that may have influenced her enough to warrant suspicion of his motives. He has never meant to hurt her.

When they swayed to a stop he was ready to apologize without knowing quite what was wrong when the quirk of her eyebrow showed the cogs of her bright mind working again.

“Ma chanson?” The words were barely out his mouth when he was cut off.

His hands gripped her waist tightly as he felt the soft pliable force of her lips against his. The collision they’d been circling around for years, it was a force to be reckoned with as her hands pulled on his shirt, pulling him flush against her and he thought he might die with the force that he wanted to move closer, further. He wanted to push her, pull her, his hands didn’t know what to do first but it was only when she began to pull away that Erik realized his inaction looked concerning. The wine buzzed and blurred their edges.

He followed her lips, pushing into her and pulling her flush against him, relishing in the moan that escaped her against his lips. He was inexperienced but she did not seem to care as her tongue felt along his bottom lip, seeking entrance. He gave as much as he received.

They were like a time bomb alright. He hadn’t realized he had been pushing her, or that she’d been pulling at him until her back hit the side of a long-gone god’s statue. He felt how close against her he could push, at how thin her robe and chemise were. How much she wanted him closer. He stifled a groan at the sensation of her pressed against him.

Her form was too good to be true and as their lips came together and apart, their tongues dancing the same dance that had already learned. One of his hands gripped her hip as if she’d be disappearing while the other reached into the tresses of her hair. He applied pressure to pull her head to the side and kiss her deeper, swallowing the sigh she exhaled.

He wanted more, needed more. Mia’s hands were moving, one tangled in his hair, his real hair on the left side of head while the other hand worked past his shirt collar to rest on his bare chest. Her skin was cool against him while he felt like he was burning up with want. A summer breeze barely registered in their brains.

Finally, the two broke apart for a gasp of air and with eyes opened neither seemed quite as brave. She seemed to be asking him something with her eyes and he didn’t know how to respond yes so he leaned his forehead against hers while breathing heavily.

“Erik,” The sigh was soft and he almost missed except he didn’t and when he met her eyes they were still heavy lidded and dark. The look was the personification of lust and Erik didn’t stop himself from kissing her again deeply.

This time when they parted for air, her lips began pressing down feather light kisses along his jaw, her hand reaching for his hair again to pull his closer to her. Her teeth bit into the crease where his neck met his shoulder and he groaned aloud, his hips rolled of their own accord against hers and her felt the exhale of a sigh against his skin. His hands were frozen in place, one twisted in her hair and the other wrapped around her now, holding her as close as possible.

She licked the bit with a kiss before doing continuing down and up his neck to his ear where when she flicked with her tongue he rolled his hips into hers purposefully, to hear her moan in his ear and groan in response, a small smirk forming.

He bowed his head to her ear and slowly traced the rim of it with his tongue before sucking on the edge. Her knees practically buckled and he held her closer in response.

“You certainly seem to know more than you pretend to.” The words were low and husky and Erik inhaled deeply, trying not to be as affected by her voice as he was.

His arrogant smirk made an appearance as he met her eye, “I am a quick learner.”

She smiled something cunning and full of promise and threat, a smile that made Erik want to wrap her legs around his waist, made him want her to pull his hair, bite his neck harder, made him want- want- want-

…

“Meg! Get back here!” The voice was an effective as a cold bath to Erik and he turned his head in the direction it came from.

“Christine.”

The name doused Mia as well as fueled a fire of anger and hurt as she slipped away, out of Erik’s arms before he could stop her. Not that he would’ve, she was sure.

Erik did in fact reach for her absently before following into the shadows but his mind was preoccupied with the girl with rosy cheeks and blonde ringlets chasing her friend across the roof.

Mia climbed onto the statue she was previously pinned against and searched for the girls, finding them on the far side of the roof. The entrance back into the opera house laid in the middle. Her face burned with embarrassment, with shame, and with no small amount of anger.

Erik did not notice the torment in his companion’s features as he peered over her shoulder at Meg and Christine.

Mia focused on calming her frantically beating heart and when she was satisfied that at least some of the color had drained from her cheeks she turned to climb back down the statue. She didn’t look at Erik, couldn’t. He didn’t look at her either.

She snuck deftly to the open door and went through without incident. It was at her disappearance that Erik snapped out of the trance Christine’s appearance placed on him.

Mia.

Cassia, if she wanted the name.

_Ma Chansom._

Damn it all.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ \- Mia should’ve known better. She threw her cloak on her bed, quickly undid the few pins left in her tossed hair and fixed her robe tighter. Her eyes were red from holding back tears and she fanned at them for a moment before also extinguishing all but two lamps in the room.

With a deep breath, she settled in front of her vanity and took stock in her appearance. If he didn’t look closely, she could pass for unsettled. Only if he was as unsettled as her.

Damn it all. Why did he have to love … Her! That **girl**!

Mia cut off the line of thinking that turned her against Christine. It was not her fault that Erik was unstable and unsure of himself. It wasn’t her fault that he’d just chosen to snog her on a rooftop despite an obvious lack of feelings.

 _That’s fine_ , Mia assured herself, _I can be unfeeling too_.

His voice was a hiss as it came through the door in her room, “Mia?”

She was brushing her hair, pretending nothing was wrong. She had plenty of experience with it, though a bit out of practice, “Yes Erik?”

He stalled in the center of her room, his eyes finding hers in the mirror, “I-“ What was there to say, “I’m sorry?”

Her smile was pristine, “Whatever for?”

“I’m not su-“

“Perhaps for choosing someone else over me?” She said, too sugar sweet and Erik’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Erik, I am no naïve child. I understand, and I am happy to have given you a lesson.”

Erik seemed to go still at her words, their insinuation as she continued brushing out her hair, seemingly without a care in the world, “A lesson?” She heard the question, the coldness. This was going to go poorly.

She continued brushing her hair, “Of course, I mean I thought you cared only for your precious angel?”

 “Christine.” He said it as if remembering.

Mia forced a laugh, “Most men don’t say another woman’s name during foreplay, Erik. Do take note.”

He was silent, his eyes attempting to find hers in the mirror but hers were focused on an imaginary point.

“I assume you were just trying to get a lesson in pleasure somehow, and I was more than happy to provide. Wouldn’t want you to disappoint her.” The words rung hallow and Mia flinched at the anger in his eyes when she finally looked back at him.

“You’re lying.” The way she said his name, breathed it out in a plea of want, the same want he felt. He would bet anything that Mia Canta, Cassia Chantel, was lying to him. She cared. God, she cared more than he did about _anything_ , there was no way that whatever **that** was, was nothing but a lesson.

“Would it matter?”

It was challenge, a dare. Like the several, tens or hundreds of ones she’d said in the past. A clear flirt, an obvious mask. This whole charade was an obvious mask, as clear to him as the one that weighed on his face.

And Erik was not strong enough to rise to it. No, his eyes narrowed, confusion and anger and hurt and pain and frustration going through his mind at her dismissal. Her shrewd words, the callowness that fit her features so well.

He stalked out of her room, his boots pronouncing every step and once Mia felt confident that he was not returning, she rose and shut her door, locking it.

It wasn’t until later that night when she awoke to roaring, tempestuous music that she wanted to sob. She wanted to curl up, to never look at him again because of how badly she’d ruined things.

In the morning she would rise to find an envelope with a red O.G. seal. It was filled with francs, too many for her to consider counting- and a scrawled note.

_For the lesson._

She cried then too.

It took days before she felt able to face him and even then, it was a carefully constructed mask of indifference.

The fruits of summer faded and their lives went on, wrought with new tensions that fizzed between them but neither approached, each too scared of spooking the other.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three pounds that sent a crack through the dark wood door to Erik's room as Mia sent another knife flying. Another pound and the crack grew larger. She knew he was awake, and she knew he was in the wrong. Another knife flew while she held a defensive pose by running her fingers through her hair.

When the door started to shift open, she stood still, ready. Erik only looked at her, amused, and then the knives in the door, "You need practice." Her second last knife flew to the wood his ear, and he did not even flinch.

"Why?"

"Because you could've killed me by now."

"No. Not why that."

Erik walked to the piano calmly, "I feel like the question you're asking is meant for a god, not a demon."

"It is if the man I'm talking to can be both." Her reply came too quickly to be over considered by either of them.

"It was a suicide."

"Erik Destler, stop this!"

His eyes glowed in anger and he stepped forward, "Don't talk to me like that!"

"I can and I will until you gain a decimal of sense! I have barely seen you these last few months, and when I do see you, you're either drunk on the feelings you'll call love, or irrationally angry at unseeable forces."

He glared at her and kept walking towards her, causing her to keep stepping back, "I'm the one being nonsensical? Just because your spineless lover shot himself-"

"He wasn't my lover!" She cut him off and he scoffed so she continued, "He was not, and I know he did not kill himself. Let's not lie anymore. You may be calling yourself an angel but that does not make you one!"

"I'm not the one claiming that my hell is heaven! When will you just realize it and LEAVE?!"

They both stopped shouting. He had backed her to the step before the water and they both stood angrily glaring at the other and breathing deeply. This was the closest to one another that they’d been in weeks.

Mia looked away first. Erik followed suit, but neither moved. Mia pushed him backwards, her hands on his chest searing his skin under his shirt. She moved past him and he let her. She walked to the top of the stairs and paused with her back to him.

Her sigh was audible as she then moved the rest of the distance to her room and shut the door. Erik allowed himself a sigh as well. He knew she was going to leave him eventually, but he shouldn't approach it like that or… or then she really will leave. He didn't know what he would do then. But she shouldn't have been so wrong! Maybe he did kill that actor, but why would that affect her? She shouldn't care.

Meanwhile Mia decided to take a hot bath. He murdered their tenor for no reason, and now he is angry at HER?

Six hours went by, Mia was reading, afraid to leave her room and reenter a shouting match. Erik made broken another mirror and messed up his room a bit, but he wasn't feeling any better about their argument.

There were three knocks on her door, "Mia." He called forcefully and she looked at the door with little emotion and continued reading.

"Mia?" He asked and she smiled as she closed her book but didn't speak, "Cassia?"

The door opened, "Yes?"

Erik didn't know what to say now that he had her attention. He wasn't going to apologize, "I would’ve killed him with a Punjab lasso, if it was me."

Immediately, as though she had to be reminded there was a difference between his way of killing, "I-" He would not have told her that if it could be expected that she would find a punjab lasso to be the killer, "I forgot." She was preoccupied.

He nodded, and an awkward silence filled their air. Finally, Mia spoke softly and not looking him in the eye, "Erik, my life is my own and I would enjoy for it to stay that way. It was not always; this place is my heaven because it gave me that." Erik resisted rolling his eyes because he knew it would do little good in their argument, and Mia didn't give him the opportunity to do so, "And, I am sorry, because by association, you would be my angel for giving it to me."

Erik looked up at her suddenly shocked she was being so sorry, he didn't have to apologize, because she just did basically, "Your perception is a bit askew but for now-"

"Perception is relative. And mine is my own. In regards to our tenor," She said, "I am sorry. But the moods you go into sometimes…How do I know I won't receive that treatment one day?" She had already had one beloved turn on her, she did not need another.

He understood now. He knew of betrayal and the fear that comes with it, "I may not have touched the man, but understand that fate will never come to you. I will not let it. I made the choice to help you, over kill you, long ago, and I do not imagine myself changing my mind."

"And if you do? I would not last more than five minutes."

He shrugged at the reality of that, "It's more than most men last, I have taught you well enough-"

"Your noose would still end up around my neck at the end of the day Erik."

"Then you'll have to trust me that it won't," She didn't seem to like this idea, and he turned his tone from arrogance to kindness, something she spoke in more than once, it always made her sound more sincere, "Cassia, I promise, I will never turn a noose on you."

She took a deep breath and looked away from his green eyes to the lake.

"If you say so mi fantasma."

Things were sort of normal after that for a while. They were a bit more… edgy, but no shouting matches. Just them being more careful.

"Were you out riding?" Erik asked as the stench of stables managed its way to the lair and he pulled himself from composing to look towards his companion.

She was in riding attire of sorts and smiled, "I was, I had never been but I figured I might as well learn."

Erik laughed and scrunched up his nose, "They didn't teach you that I take it?"

Mia scoffed, "We were taught to ride other things actually…" He voice drained off and Erik coughed realizing her innuendo, "They aren't that different in actuality."

Erik played along despite the impropriety, "One is most likely a little harder than the other."

"That's why horse riding came so easy to me." Erik didn't have a response now as she came to sit sideways in her chair as always, "Do you know how to ride? A horse, I mean."

He chuckled and answered turning to face her again knowing this conversation would last a while, "I do."

"How did you learn?"

He sat back and nodded, "Well, I learned in stride. I was on the run and a horse made that easier."

She nodded and remembered a conversation, years ago now, "Was that before or after the carnival?"

They didn't talk about the past as a rule- neither really ever wanted to so those topics were avoided, "It was before them, I was running from the Shah of Persia actually." Her smile beckoned him to continue, "I had built him-"

"A maze of mirrors?" He turned on her but she shrugged, "Antoinette may have mentioned it to me."

Understanding, he nodded, "More than a maze. A palace filled with trapdoors and hidden tunnels."

She faced him completely upon the piano bench and crossed her legs, "Practice for the opera house?" The similarities were outstanding, if so.

"Inadvertently. After its construction, I was ordered to be killed for knowing too much so I ran."

"To Paris." He nodded, "Why Paris? It's not the city I would choose as a refuge."

Erik side smiled, as if remembering, "It was filled with lights, the beautiful things. I was done living in the darkness of my life and was ready to live normally."

He was thankful she stayed silent for a moment as it appeared to him that he may not have gotten what he wanted, "I understand," Mia said finally and he scoffed, turning to continue playing when she spoke determined, "Don't scoff at me! I do! Paris is filled with lights, blinding lights that work to garishly compensate for the people," Nodding, Erik was surprised by her next statement even more, "As for a normal life, I wish I could too."

Mia stood and walked to her room, closing the door. Through the staircase behind the wall in her room, she left. It took her years to find, but came to be very helpful. It led to the attic, which had a fire escape to the sidewalk, or a hatch that if one jumped high enough they could pull themselves out and onto the roof. Pacing the roof she rubbed her wrist and shook her head.

No man can have her trapped, and no matter what she may say, Erik would be able to kill her in seconds.

But he wouldn't. Erik cared, even if his moods hinted otherwise. He cared; he just needed to get past the only negative views of himself, simply because of his face. He could be normal. Mia had to believe that, or else they were both lost.

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Meanwhile, Erik realized just how estranged Mia was now. She didn't answer to her real name, and she preferred to live under an Opera House with an ugly man, which did no good for her reputation. Her reputation… She was running from a crime that could easily be erased if she changed identity, no one would care… but she was as good as a prostitute for some years which could be lied about if she wanted. She could be normal.

Mia should really learn to just play the piano downstairs and deal with whatever crap Erik gives her from time to time because she always gets interrupted when she stayed in the main room. Two in the morning, playing softly and calmingly her smile is wiped off her face by a small voice asking "Senorita?"

Too small of a voice for Meg. Turning she sigh internally, "Yes Miss Daae?"

The little blue eyes blonde… angel, smiled, "You can call me Christine." Mia nodded but didn't respond so Christine continued, "Excuse me senorita, but why are you still here? Don't you go home?"

Mia faked raising her eyebrows, "That's a bold question mademoiselle!"

"I'm sorry Senorita! I didn't mean to imply-"

The fact that the girl apologized so quickly and so sincerely had Mia feeling bad for her deception, "Christine, I was joking, and if you say senorita one more time."

Christine looked down abashed, "Sorry Senorita."

"It's Mia, my name." Mia said before biting her lip. This girl was sweet, she'd give Erik that much. Christine was difficult to dislike when she was being so kind and eager to please, that's exactly what Erik has never received, even from her, to be honest.

With a smile Christine took that as an invitation to come closer from the side of the stage, "So why are you here?"

"I live here, why are you?" Mia asked defensively.

Christine's brow furrowed and she shook her head, "My father died, you know tha-" Luckily she ignored Mia's first answer.

"No," Mia interrupted, "Why are you walking around the opera house at two in the morning? It can be dangerous, either now, or in the morning if Madame Giry ever finds out."

The younger girl looked sheepishly to the floor and Mia knew that she had her, "I heard music."

"Well, it was not mine; I was playing too soft for the sounds to leave this room." Christine shook her head and Mia could see the cogs trying to think of another reason and failing, "Just," Christine looked up hopefully, "Just be careful, we don't want anyone to get hurt."

The blonde head nodded sweetly, "Of 'course Senori- Mia, I'll be very careful. I have my angel to protect me!" She all but skipped off and Mia wanted to hit her head into a wall. As sweet as she is, the girl was not very smart.

Standing from the instrument, Mia closed the case over the keys quietly and made to walk away when she heard a break of glass and she froze. After came the deep mumblings of what must have been a drunken stagehand. Mia quickly threw up her hood and sunk into the shadows of the stage curtains just as a stumbling drunk Buquet appeared walking across stage, kicking the glass shard with his olden boots.

His incoherent mumblings were nothing as he made his way off the stage, about to move right past Mia, when he stumbled and grabbed the curtains. However, in the act, he grabbed Mia's skirt and ripped it as he landed flat on the ground.

With pursed lips, she moved to go past him but he had a grip on her skirt, and once she moved, he saw her, "Senorita, what are you doing here still?" He looked up at her, and she scoffed.

"I'm not here, you're dreaming." She said as he stuttered to stand but kept a hold on her dress. Once he stood she made a grasp for his wrist to twist it, but even in his stupor he grabbed her hand with his other.

He leered at her in a way that was all too familiar to her, "A dream you say?"

She glared at him intensely before swiping her knife from the covered small crevice of her back and held it to the nook of Buquet's neck; he only had time to widen his eyes, "Or a nightmare, take your pick."

His hands let go of hers and he took a wobbly step back with his hands held in innocence, "Alright, alright, some paramour you are." She smirked and brushed her skirt off, ignoring the large rip in it.

"One you'll never know." Mia said as a final remark, walking back stage and into the rafters silently, catching a passageway there. As soon as she was more than three steps in the tunnel she heard the knock on stone in the dark, "Erik?"

His white mask appeared in the blackness and she smiled, "Are you okay?" His voice was deep with anger yet concerned as she walked towards him, "You looked like you had it-"

"Handled," Mia cut him off, "I did, I did not know you were there however. Did Christine get to her room safely?"

"She did." His answer was that of adoration and Mia was frustrated enough at everyone to brush past him with a scoff, "You can get a new dress tomorrow."

"An angel indeed." Mia grumbled into their darkness leaving Erik confused.

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Carlotta and Piangi. An annoying combination. Add an overtired Mia.

One day, she snapped.

"Can you hold a note for two seconds without vibrato?" Mia's voice was frustrated and loud as it cut through the rehearsals for Hannibal. It was just taking form, but of course Carlotta knew exactly how to sing every song already, "Vibrato is the equivalent of a garnish! Too much of it and the sound is stale!"

There was silence all around. The dancers, who were listening to Madame Giry, paused as she now watched the two women in the front center of the stage. Monsieur Reyer paused his playing and looked up at them, as well, in complete admiration one could guess. The managers who sat front row, previously listening to the diva's third attempt at her aria, now looked up wide eyed.

Mia was just next to the woman to ask Madame Giry a small question without interrupting but on her way back, the shaking notes hit her last nerve. Now she was regretting it a little but her temper still ran high. Carlotta's was just starting, "What did you say?"

With a deep breath she answered, "I said, vibrato is not a technique to base your voice off of, it is a tool used to demonstrate emotions or power usually. You have nothing to prove power wise so why don't you just sing purely."

It was still silent and Mia knew the scene it was causing as Carlotta screeched back, "You are telling me? What would you know about singing?" She screeched the last word indignantly.

Looking back on it, perhaps she had just become spoiled hearing Erik's humming and playing of notes but she knew that she was still right about Carlotta, "I know enough about music Senora; you do not want to test me." Her tone had a hint of a threat to it, and she felt a pair of eyes on her from the darkness.

Carlotta only laughed, "You? The…" She seemed to re-choose her words, "The ugly goose among us, always craning your neck where it does not belong!"

"I believe you are thinking of the swan senora, and nonetheless, yes, I am correct, your vibrato is all over the place. Yes, I would know," Mia moved to get off the stage and was half way off the steps before Carlotta spoke again.

"Prove it." Carlotta was indignant and Mia sighed, "You're a business woman, at best," The diva scoffed as Mia began to get angry once more, "Why should I listen to you little goose? Because you think you can honk?"

Mia continued down the steps and turned toward the center again, "Monsieur Reyer, if I may?" She lifted her hand to the piano and the older man jumped out of his seat to offer it to her. She spoke to Carlotta on the stage above her, "Shall we do scales together or do you want a demonstration flat out?"

Carlotta scoffed, "You would not keep up with me, and a demonstration will do." Her snotty voice was enough to make Mia glare before seating herself.

She began softly humming with the music she played, Mia hadn't heard any music besides Erik's in forever and now she had to sing too? Looking up at the aria that held the stand currently and tried to examine what methods she could use.

Once the melody was pulsing in her fingers she sung for the first time in forever, "Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye." Her voice was just warming up and she stayed lower, "Remember me, every so often, please promise me you'll try." She felt almost comfortable for the hard part.

Erik, who sat high in the roof, prepared to mess with the chandelier when he heard her voice pick up and he froze.

"When you'll find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free," He had never heard her sing before, although she mentioned she took lessons before, "If you'll ever find a moment, spare a thought for me." Mia knew she was on key and rather good the entire time so when she saw Carlotta looking down at her shocked she was not surprised.

"Senora, from the top if you will, with fewer vibratos?" Her fingers still ran over the keys and she began it again as Carlotta fearfully took her stance to sing while her voice screeched once in anger.

The light of the room disappeared and reappeared in seconds as Mia gasped even though she partially saw it coming. The ballets rats shouted and scrambled, Meg shouting, "It's him, the Phantom of the Opera!" The lights continued to flicker and Mia's smirk came to rest easily on her face as she stood from the piano. She was beautiful, Erik noted, not for the first time in their acquaintance.

"Will the large goose stop its honking?" Though phrased as a question it wasn't one, "I do not believe the swan was done."

Mia scoffed at his mockery as she came back upon the stage, "I do believe she was actually!" At her call back to him, the lights stopped and people around her took two steps back at the power she just demonstrated. He wasn't mocking her.

"It listened to her." She heard Meg whisper across the stage to Christine and her smirk wiped off at the word "it". He was not an "it".

Turning to Reyer who stared fearfully at her and the chandelier, "Carlotta is done for the day, chorus could use some practice if you want to continue rehearsals." She turned to Madame Giry who was behind her, chin raised without fear, "I do not think there will be any more disturbances Madame."

"I can hope Senorita." They shared a smile, for although neither spoke of Erik out rightly, yet they both knew.

"As can I Madame, continue."

With that, and a flourish of skirts, Mia moved behind stage to go into the hallways yet people flocked out of her way and she stifled a laugh when she heard the manager who was watching mutter something about retiring. Yea, right.

She walked alone through the hall and ducked into a corridor at her own pace. As she descended to her home she noticed Erik was still out and realized the stack of mail on the table.

They only got the mail every few months from Erik's box up on land, yet she was usually the one to go get it these days. What could he want from the mail that would inspire him to go get it? She knew money was no object, there was an obscure bank account with some name on it that he deposited money into.

She rifled through the envelopes, some smeared by rain and some ripped at the edges. Bank statements and news updates. Nothing of any unusual importance, then again, if there was something worth him going on land for, he probably already had it. If he wanted to keep it from her, it'd be in his room.

"Erik?" She called out boomingly and then softer, throwing her voice down each tunnel. There was no response and she played a few of his signature notes on the piano waiting for a signal that he was near before her gaze settled on his almost always closed door. He had let her in, on occasion, but never by herself and always for a purpose. This was a purpose. She was… getting his clothes to wash. She did that often, usually she would ask him for them but this could work.

Mia cautiously opened the door and waited for any traps it may spring to walk in there without Erik, only to hear nothing. No clicks or springs so she slipped in, leaving the door open for additional light. His room was dark as always, and she struggled to light the main lamp near his "bed". Luckily, she found the mail there too. Four letters from Nadir Khan.

Once she did, she looked around the room, it was dark still and she never was a fan of his room. It always seemed the heart of whatever madness that lives in his head, usually manifested itself in this room. Yea… well… now she had more support of that madness.

His organ was surrounded in paintings, sketches, any artistic representations that you could imagine- all of the beautiful blonde haired blue eyed girl. Christine Daae flooded this room.

Mia stared, wide eyed, for longer than she should have. Granted, she had been shown signs that he was rather mentally unstable several times in the past. He never slept, he was prone to violence, and he was always obsessive with his music and his privacy. Now he just seemed to have found an idol of his obsession- Christine.

"Oh, Erik, que vamos hacer con tu?" She mumbled in a quick drawl as she continued examining the pieces of art.

A voice that sounded as though it was right behind her whispered, "Perhaps give me the privacy I request?" She gasped and spun involuntarily remembering the excuses she thought of as the form leaning against the door frame confirmed that she had been caught.

Mia tried maintaining her position by scoffing, "I called your name several times, I wanted to get the laundry from this room for the week."

Erik moved into the room and Mia noticed how he wore his black mask because she had a much harder time seeing it in the darkness of his room, "Do not lie to the person who taught you how, ma chanson." His condescension rolled and made Mia indignant.

"I learned to lie long before I got here, mi fatasma. People in my ex-profession lie for a living, but we don't love. It is only the harbinger of pain."

His eyes narrowed and in that moment she knew he was proud of this …love, this obsession, "I understand that better than you, child-"

"I'm not a child!" She stomped her foot and Erik rolled his eyes, she was not a child, true. As a woman of twenty five, he had lost the right to call her a child, yet with all the pain of the world in his eyes and all some hope in hers- that is what she was. He had saved that hope, whether he knew it or not.

"You are as curious as one, and as foolish-"

"I'm the foolish one? Erik, this girl is twelve years your junior, and thinks you're a ghost-"

"The whore is calling out who I chose to love?" This shut up Mia immediately and Erik almost regretted it by the hurt look of her eyes, her beautiful eyes. If he still wasn't upset with her for walking in here, let alone insulting it, "Just your love of this place, proves your bad judgment." He scoffed once more and she became indignant as he grabbed her wrist to pull her out.

She ripped her wrist from his grasp, "I know more about love than you have ever heard of within your dark damp prison!"

This time he did not touch her but instead stood tall and straight, "I'm sure you do, and how many men do you claim to love? How many did you rip from families or steal from while they slept?"

She matched his posture, "I had a family Erik, ripped from me. And one. I loved one of the many," Her tone did not match his shout, and yet it made his face soften.

"What?"

She pointed to his wall of obsession, "And I can tell you, this is not healthy. This will bring you pain and sorrow; please do not make me watch you go through that! Please, Erik," She felt her eyes begin to sting of tears that never got to be properly mourned, “Please.” Mia walked around him out of his room and into hers; she did not mean to say it that way. It would not help his impression of her, especially in this position.

The music of his despair could be heard shortly after and Mia could only throw a pillow at the door in frustration. Why did he think he loved Christine? And what was so wrong with him "loving" her?

Christine was beautiful and kind and virtuous and naive … and everything that Erik wanted. Of 'course he would love her, but Mia knew it was never that easy.

She opened the letters she had tucked away to find a very concerned… friend? Had been writing to Erik. Perhaps it was that Persian, he hadn’t come by as of late. Mia had always been commanded to stay away for those visits for whatever reason.

"Erik?" She knocked on his door at the first beat of silence he gave her, "May I come in?"

There was no response so she opened the door slowly prepared for something to get thrown at her only for continued silence, "Erik?" She asked once more as she noticed a shape at his desk and walked in softly as he turned to her, "I came to apologize." Mia still didn't know why she was apologizing but she knew Erik wouldn't and they both needed to be past this.

As she got closer the light lit up to reveal his face missing its mask, which almost made Mia stop in her tracks, instead she settled to cough covering her gasp of surprise. She had forgotten how bad it really was and yet he had a small smile on his face, "Cassia," He started and Mia immediately moved closer looking into his eyes carefully, "Why are you still here?" His hand touched her face but she immediately grabbed it between two of her own.

"Your skin is warm." Through months of training and years of living together she knew that was odd. His skin was always cold, "Erik, did you take something?" She knew he kept an apothecary in his room, but she never saw it besides peeks of the bottles that he carried occasionally.

Erik chuckled and stood once again taller than her, "Your name doesn't change you know? Chantel and Canta mean the same thing." His hands seemed to move on their own to her waist.

Mia rolled her eyes and scanned the desk behind him for any indication of what he had taken, "I did know that." Her eyes landed on an empty bottle and she reach around him to pick it up, "Morphine. Really?"

The all-powerful phantom laughed, "I didn't save you any, would you want some? You sounded sad before." His voice was half childish and half mockery and she could feel his breath on her face.

Mia grabbed his sleeve roughly, "I was sad before." She dragged him to the door she never entered before in his room but she presumed it was a bathroom and was correct as it was luckily better lit with oil lamps.

"What do you have to be sad about?" Mia wanted to laugh at his similarity to a five year old while drugged, then again, without the pain maybe that is how he would act.

She pushed him not lightly into his bath and turned on the cold water, "Nothing of any consequence anymore."

She slipped to the sink, picking up the porcelain basin and filling it with cold water while Erik wobbled to go down to her level and the level of the faucet, "Either was Cassia, and she is not too bad."

The basin was almost filled when Mia responded, "She never dealt with her problems, which was bad." In a fluid motion she stood and threw the water in the basin straight at the crouched Erik who stepped back at its contact and in doing so, slipped and fell back into the large bath.

Not being filled with water yet, it was a hard fall and combined with the cold water- Erik was no longer happy, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He shouted as he tried to get up only to have another basin full of water hit him square in the chest and he fell back.

"I will not having you using while I am dealing with you," She said matter-of-factly and replaced the basin on the counter.

He stood now, drenched and more coherent, "You don't decide what I do!"

"No, but I decide what I do. Currently you're drenched and will be a bit sore from that fall. Maybe you will think more carefully next time." She turned to leave him there.

He left her alone that night, and she felt immensely not guilty about going through his mail and reading one from a friend, which was surprising nonetheless- Nadir Khan for sure- Mia put the letter away for future reference.

The night went by, Erik not sleeping and erasing all the doubt she had managed to place in his mind, and forgetting the conviction of her voice, the potential. Mia was dark, and sensible, and smart, and determined. She thrived in the darkness, but this experience proved it.

Erik was done with darkness, if Mia was going to be difficult, he could be too. He did not want day light, but just her words cutting through him hurt, more than usual. He had to stop thinking about her- and in what better way than her opposite- Christine.

Meanwhile, Mia slept restlessly. In the morning things would be back to the way they were, or so they hoped. Neither knew quite how much longer they could play these games of pretend with one another.


	9. Cut Deeper

"Monsieurs, allow me to introduce your manager of the arts, senorita Mia Canta." Lefevre spoke as the fashionably late woman walked into his office and stopped in her steps.

"Pardon?" She said, surprised by the two men in the office and looking for an explanation as they stood in greeting.

The taller of the two with darker hair and a face of a father smiled largely, "Senorita, it is a pleasure!" Taking her hand, he kissed the back of it and yet Mia's eyes didn't leave Lefevre's as she waited for an explanation even as the shorter one with balding hair stepped forward to take her hand.

"Senorita, Mia, I have been meaning to tell you for some time, I'm retiring."

Mia wanted to groan at the idea of frightening these managers into submission all over again, "What? Why?" Her response came off in efforts of being concerned as the two men sat down again.

"With recent events, my health would flourish better under different conditions." He answered her and she wanted to laugh at how he didn't want to admit his fear of the place, "These men are looking to buy the opera house, monsieur’s Andre and Firmin."

Instantly a charmed smile came to Mia's face as she positioned herself in a chair next to Leferve's desk, facing the two men with her legs crossed, "Me encantais, I'm sure we will get along swimmingly." She turned back to Lefevre, "Have you filled them in on our production of Hannibal?"

He shook his head, "I have not-"

The shorter man, Andre, spoke up, "He specifically said that he would leave that pleasure to you Senorita." Mia's smile grew.

"Gracias, my pleasure indeed! However, I believe there is some paperwork first and as you know with the premiere tomorrow, I would hate to disturb practice now."

"Madamoisel- Senorita, our patron would like to introduce himself as well? He will be arriving shortly."

Mia's eyes widened just a fraction, another idiot to corral, "So, what if we get the specifics wrapped up…”

The men gave her their full attention and she was careful once more to appear, someone, they could trust fully with everything, in order to keep their delicate balance of control at this opera house. She showed them the full seating area and the dormitories which were basically empty, considering rehearsals were taking place.

Right as the four walked into the theatre, Carlotta's "renowned" screech rang out, still riddled with vibratos. Mia held out an arm to stop the men in their tracks in the door frame while their eyes wandered across the backstage but she hoped not to disturb practice too much. She had forgotten, in the midst of Carlotta's tantrum earlier about her dress, to mention it to monsieur Reyer.

Andre and Firmin, however, had no such reservations about interrupting. Their eyes wandered from toned dancers’ bodies like men starved for the image and Mia rolled her eyes as she attempted to keep them corralled. She was getting very sick of men thinking with their cocks.

A glimpse of black in the rafters that no one else was likely to notice let her know she had a friend, if he was still that, following her.

Erik, she supposed would always be her friend, but lately, his moods were always bitter and cold towards her and her own chilled to match his. Somedays they talked and joked and shared sly private smiles like they always had, but then other days… She feared to leave her door unlocked. She saw him going mad before her eyes for this girl, one dancing not 15 feet in front of her and could do nothing to stop it.

Suddenly, Firmin pointed at his watch to her and moved past her to the door and she shared a look of confusion with Andre before Firmin reappeared with a young man and chestnut long hair.

Mia froze. Time froze.

“Cassia.”

Erik in the rafters was watching with thinly veiled distaste, annoyed at having to start all over again with fresh managers and a patron, no less. In that moment, the Viscount de Chagny’s stupidly perfect blue eyes were holding Mia’s. Erik had already begun not liking him from the way the ballerina’s swooned. But THIS.

At the sound of her name, Mia’s eyes were wide, her entire posture stiffened into something that reminded Erik of a doe ready to run. He’d never seen Mia so afraid and the very thought made him want to kill something. She seemed physically repulsed by the man’s presence and Erik searched quickly for a way to extricate her from the stage.

It was only for a second thought, and she composed herself immediately. She spared Erik and glance, one that sent him reaching for his lasso and did nothing to calm his nerves.

She tilted her head, a pristine smile on her face, doe-eyed in confusion, “Monsieur, I’m afraid you must have me confused with someone else.” She curtsied and held out her hand, “Mia Canta, manager of the arts.”

Raoul did not buy it, his eyes narrowed but he nodded, “Of course, it’s a pleasure mademoiselle.” He took her hand and kissed it, his eyes never leaving hers, the boldness only making Mia have to hold back more nervousness.

She suddenly noticed the music had stopped and Raoul still hadn’t let go of her hand and his intense blue-eyed gaze seemed to be cutting into her. She looked to where their hands still met between them and raised an innocent brow, “Monsieur?”

He let go immediately and they both turned to the general buzz of the cast, all attention on the rich and handsome patron surely.

When Monsieur Lefevre tried to speak over everyone, no one paid attention, "Everyone, please if I can have your attention?" The noisy buzz of voice continued, and Mia smirked.

"Excuse me, crew!" She said loudly and happily as heads turned and voices quieted, besides the ballet rats, "Madame." Mia looked to Antoinette who sharply glared at her students, causing complete silence, "Thank you for your attention." She finished before looking to Lefevre expectantly.

He nodded in thanks before starting, "Ladies and Gentlemen, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement," A well-placed whisper here and there, "And I can now confirm that these were all true."

Mia had to spoke over the few talks that started up again at this news, "I would like to introduce, our new managers, Monsieur Andre, and Monsieur Firmin."

"I'm sure you've heard of their recent fortune amassed in the junk business." Mia stifled a laugh at the shots fired, especially as Andre corrected him.

Monsieur Firmin spoke up, handling his gloves nervously, "And we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny." The young man from behind the curtain came forward, well dressed and well-mannered still as the applause was numerous. Mia could feel the gold diggers batting their eyelashes.

With this she slowly sunk into the shadows, going around the stage, quickly but quietly. Her hands were fidgeting with her dress, a habit long outgrew. She was just reaching an alcove that would take her down, back to safety, when a gloved hand took her by the waist and led her a different way.

She took a steadying breath as she looked to the black half mask and tried to hide her fear. By the bruising grip on her waist, she’d guess that he already figured.

They went through a plain wooden door that led to the grand golden halls of the theatre. The red velvet stairs that led to box 5 were so familiar to Mia that they brought a sigh of relief from her painted lips.

It was only after that relief that Erik asked in a tone laced with violence, “If I need to kill him…” He let the question go into the air and it made Mia laugh, her eyes meeting his and a small smirk coming on his face, “I wasn’t joking.”

The box was unlit and Erik let Mia go upon entering it. He watched her entire form go still again at the sight of the man on stage. The Viscount was shaking and kissing hands, graciously greeting all the wonderful people lucky to be meeting him. Mia watched him warily but perched on a box seat in all her skirts.

“I know you weren’t.”

Erik leaned against the wall, His imposing frame folding in upon itself. He was wasting time up here. His angel was set to sing and take Carlotta’s place any minute now. He had rigged up a scene to fall but he needed to untie the rope soon. But Mia looked so small back there, the woman who dared him to kill her long gone, and instead only a girl trying to shrink. He couldn’t leave her.

“Mia.”

The Viscount walked off with a wave and nod to the cast and crew. Carlotta was going to begin an aria.

The girl turned back into the woman he knew, her back straightening and chin lifting, “He is no one.”

Erik scoffed, “The way you reacted to him, well,” He paused and smiled, “It’s how most people react to me.”

Mia stood from her seat to face him, “He is not someone I expected to see around here.”

“A customer then?” Erik’s voice was low, deadly.

Mia looked back at the stage, “No,” She whispered, “His brother.” With that, she turned to walk down the stairs, “Come along, you have an aria to sabotage. We’ll talk later.”   

The two parted at the stage curtain "It is time." She heard in her ear and she paused in her steps among the bustling backstage before continuing with a reluctant well-aimed whisper.

"I am at your service." The words gave her a chill that left her wondering if it was the right answer, she was more than a little unnerved by the unfolding of today and she could only hope that it would get better.

Carlotta's Think of Me was screeching as Mia reappeared by the dancers just in time for the scene to start falling and a scream to ring out as it covered the brightly and largely decorated woman, and Mia moved the dancers back in time.

Meg was the first to speak as she grabbed Mia's hand, "He's there! The Phantom of the opera!" Although Mia could not tell whether the girl was scared or excited she took the girl's hand in hers and shook her head apart from the shouts going on.

"Carlotta!" Reyer cried from the pit and the unsettled diva stood in an angry huff.

The noise was building to a point beyond control if it continued so the Senorita shouted, "Everybody! We all know these things do happen occasionally."

"Buquet! Lord of the flyers, he'll know," Lefevre helped her at the bigger familiar man appeared in the rafters, "What in god's name is going on?"

"Please, monsieur don't look at me. As god my witness, I was at my post. Please, Monsieur there's no one there, and if there is then it must be a ghost!" His intent to scare worked as a few gasps were heard around the stage, giving Mia the perfect opportunity to slip an official letter into Antoinette's hands who only looked at her pleadingly but she shook her head. They were only pawns in this plan and she knew it.

Firmin seemed very sympathetic with the senorita who called order once more, "Senora, these things do happen."

Carlotta glared at him, "These things do happen? What do you know? You're just as bad as him!" She turned her rage on Mia quickly, "And her, his precious paramour! You believe her! Men! For years, these things do happen, well unless you stop these things from happening, this thing does not happen!" Mia smirked at the tantrum in her face and Carlotta stormed around her as the new managers panicked.

Lefevre tiredly sighed as Carlotta stormed off firing commands and forcing Piangi along with her and her tired maids. As she left, Lefevre put on his hat and nodded the Andre and Firmin, "Gentlemen, good luck, if you need me, I shall be in Australia." He extended his arms to Mia who had not received hugs from many people these days, embraced him like a daughter and heard his words too quiet for other ears, "I am sorry for you, child. Good luck."

Mia smiled at the older man, not understanding him as he left them to their worries, and her knowledge, "La Carlotta will be back." Firmin said assured and Mia turned on him.

"Hopefully, she will not be, in honesty monsiuers." She said before looking to Madame Giry, "Madame, are your dancers ready for tonight?"

Antoinette nodded stepped forward with her tempo stick and an attitude, "I have a message, from the Opera Ghost," She paused for the complaints and stated his demands reasonably- to which the managers were outraged.

"It does not matter now if we have to cancel!" Monsieur Reyer winced at Monsieur Firmin's tone.

Andre found himself sputtering, "What about the understudy?"

"There is no understudy for La Carlotta!" The conductor said agitated before spinning on Mia, "You've sung the aria once, could you do it again?"

Mia's laugh was charmed and a hint of sincere surprise, "Me monsieur? Never, although Christine Daae has the voice," The honest surprise in the girl's face as she met eyes with the Senorita made her smile, "She has great teacher monsieur."

"Really who?"

Christine stuttered, "I don't know his name, monsieurs." Because you never asked, Mia thought bitterly before cutting off that train of thought. It would lead nowhere good.

Mia looked at Madame Giry pointedly who spoke up quickly, "Let her sing for you, she has been well taught."

In the following seconds, Mia knew she had done her job correctly for Christine's voice had matured into a lovely soprano. Just within the first few bars of the aria everyone was decided. Christine would be playing the lead and Erik got his way.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Erik!" Mia hissed at the silent figure hunched over his piano in his tunic and pants. There was a bottle of wine on the piano with two empty glass, "Have you lost your mind?" The gala had been a complete success in her position, but currently, they missed their new soprano.

Erik turned his head but the look of contentment on his face stabbed Mia more than she thought it would, "She came, by herself, I just had to call, she wasn't even afraid," His voice was so proud that Mia wanted to shout at him but both spoke quietly in regards to the sleeping girl in their home.

He stood when she moved closer and she grabbed his hands to his surprise as he unsuccessfully tried to pull them away, "Calling her doesn't involve locking her door and threatening tones, that borders on kidnapping! Not to mention the effect your voice could have on anyone."

However, kind her intents were, Erik saw only the condescension in her voice as he gripped her wrists tightly now seeing that she wouldn't let go of him, "I need her, Cassia, try to understand-" Cassia didn't pull her wrists away still but gripped back just as hard.

"I do, trust me, I do, but-"

Erik let go of her and stepped away shouting, "You don't! You don't understand!"

Mia looked to the open room and held up a hand, "Shhh-"

"Let her wake, she'll prove me right!" He continued, and Mia raised an eyebrow.

Still caught on Carlotta's words earlier she scoffed, "Really? You want her to wake and find you arguing with your paramour?"

That made him still and quiet. His eyes were shut, "I love her." The words were so broken. And convincing.

Mia nodded, "I know, I've loved too Erik, and I've lost. There is no comparison to the pain it caused and I can tell you it was not worth it." Erik rolled his eyes once and Mia was finished with his condescension with her.

"The only man I loved before my heaven, I sent to his hell." Erik's eyes froze on hers and he remembered her sardonic smirk the very first day. Her helpless tone and empty eyes.

"You killed him?" His voice was more accusing than he meant it to be and wished he could take it back when the hurt entered her eyes because he already knew that.

Her tone stayed steady, however, "It was puppy love truly, and he was a terrible person looking back at it, who said all the right things, sometimes.” Her hands managed to pour the wine into the glasses and hand one to Erik. He pretended not to see her trembling as they sat leg to leg on the piano bench and drank. “The Count de Chagny. One day, high on whatever concoction he found, he came to me saying his wife had found out about his habits and he blamed me. He had a knife. I had my chance to turn it and I did."

Erik narrowed his eyes, "It was self-defense."

"Entirely." Mia defended and saw him looking even angrier, "I told you that I killed him though?"

He stood, taking their glasses and refilling them, "It's not that. It's just…" He handed her's back, "He did not deserve you."

"What do you mean by that?" Mia asked.

He sat opposite her on the bench to keep writing note, "You deserve better than that kind." His tone said more than his intended body language but it made Mia unexplainably happy at the same time. Erik knew what she would think and simply downplayed it, despite his anger that any man would treat a child in that manner.

Mia was sixteen when he found her in his tunnels, which means she was only a teenager… a teenager! Then again, at that a,ge Erik was sure several of her actions would anger him. He tried not to think of her or them. Her head rested on his shoulder, "No, you deserve better."

Christine was only seventeen, but Mia chose not to voice that.

They sat in companionable silence.

"That's very interesting." Her understatement made Erik look up at her, "I was going to say the same about you," She pointed to the spare room with the angel sleeping in the silk sheets and turned as soon as she saw Erik's eyes lit with anger, "Shhh, we wouldn't want to wake her and cause your embarrassment at me," Erik's eyes softened at her displeased tone.

She couldn't embarrass him really; he knew that she did not like his choice of match.

But he knew she would suffer it. He loved Christine and Mia knew she would not stand in his way. If only she could understand their kind of love, and how it was different from hers that was lost.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Cassia.” The name came at her again, like a knife for her heart, as she was doing morning rounds. She was currently re-doing the hem of a ballet dress, alone in the costume room, when the Viscount walked in.

She had been considering what she would say to him. If she’d plead further ignorance or not.

She was done running.

“Raoul. How’s your Pa?” She didn’t look up from her needle and thread.

“Dead.”

She almost poked herself with the needle when she looked up sharply, “I’m very sorry.”

“No you’re not.’ Raoul said it and she could not bring herself to contradict him so she went back to sewing as he took up a seat across from her, “Did you kill him?”

“Your father? Certainly not. Although I will not say I’ll cry for him.”

Raoul met her eye and she felt the will the lie ebbing, “I meant Phillipe.”

“Yes.”

The man began to pace the room, hands going through his hair, “Christ Cassia! I thought I knew you-“

Mia looked up sharply and hissed, “You have never known me. You’ve known the thing that he bought me to be!”

Raoul stopped to look at her then, truly look, “My god, you really did kill him.”

“It’s been eight years Raoul. Get with the times.”

He scoffed, “You killed my brother!”

“And you’re still in the room with me. Alone.”

He stared at her, taking his seat again and leaning over to whisper, “I know Phillipe was not always good to you,” She met his eyes sharply, “And I know now that your life was not easy,” He was losing his courage with her scornful look, “And I’m sorry because I know you loved him. You told me so.”

It had been the night Phillipe gifted her to Raoul, to make him into a man. They were the same age and it calmed Phillipe that he already knew she had no diseases or large goals for his brother. Afterward, Raoul was relatively kind, wanting to hold her when all she wanted to do was bathe but she let him and they talked. Of his family, mostly.

She was silent before her voice finally came back to her, “Get out of my sight Raoul de Chagny or I will string you from the rafters myself and watch you bleed out.”

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mia Canta dressed for the worst. The opera was denying Erik his demands and she did not want to be caught wearing a skirt when shit hit the fan.

Which it did. It always did.

“Did you switch her vocal soother?”

Mia bristled, “Yes.”

They two rested in the rafters above, their shadows and cloaks concealing them, “I will break that chandelier if they refuse me again.”

“I know.”

He looked at her then, surprised at the lack of argument, “You’re not going to try and stop me?”

She pushed off the wall, “You wouldn’t listen anyway, Erik, why bother trying?”

“You usually try anyway.”

“I’m tired,” She breathed and Erik felt her whole body heaved at the effort it took, “I’m tired of fighting with you and I’m tired of walking on ice. Don’t worry, I’m your obedient servant.”

Her mocking tone rang hollow as he took in the bags under her eyes and the shirt that hang too loose.

But then Carlotta’s voice screeched and broke his concentration. He grinned something sharp before disappearing further up and his booming voice rang out, “She’s singing to bring down the chandelier!”

The lights flickered and Mia drank in the sound of his voice. She saw the altercation on stage, and Christine attempting to be normal as the song restarted.

She saw the fear in the girl’s eyes. And she understood.

Erik waited while the actresses switched roles and the ballet took the stage. He saw Mia hop to lower rafters until she reached one that ran the length of the stage so she could cross unseen.

Except she wasn’t unseen. He saw Joseph Buquet sneaking behind her and Erik didn’t even realize he was moving in her direction before he even thought. The Punjab lasso in his hands by protective instinct. He couldn’t call out but somewhere he chided Mia for being so unaware.

Buquet grabbed her by the hair and Mia’s hand rose to her scalp to hold onto her hair as she tried to turn but he only pulled her close to himself, a knife pressed to her waist.

Erik didn’t need to hear the whisper to know it was a lewd threat, violent too. The Punjab lasso loosened in his grip and his steps quickened as Mia didn’t struggle and Buquet began pushing them toward one side.

Erik knew Mia could jump to the next rafter if her hair wasn’t held, and she still might. He knew somewhere in his mind that she could take care of herself. But those thoughts didn’t matter as he saw the ribbon of red that blossomed at Buquet stumbled, almost pushing them both from the plank but Mia’s sure footing caught them and caused a gash on her right side.

He’d pay for that carelessness. Erik couldn’t hear anything but a pounding in his ears as he closed the distance between them. The noose fit snug around the bigger man’s neck he struggled against the demon killing him. The yellow eyes glowed in the darkness and when Mia turned she stopped herself from feeling anything but relief.

Even when Buquet turned practically purple and Erik was still holding tight. Even as Erik bared his teeth and practically hissed at the man. Even when Buquet’s feet stopped kicking and started twitching.

“Erik?” To Mia’s horror, her phantom tied the rope and pushed the body off the ledge, and onto the stage.

As the screams pierced the air, Erik laughed, a noise that boomed still and Mia stepped backward away from this man. This man who was at once familiar and unknown. His cat eyes met her warm ones before flickering to her side.

She’d barely noticed the gash but her white blouse was quickly staining, and her cloak was too precious to waste. Erik seemed to storm past her but grabbed her gently as he went, “Get downstairs.” Mia nodded numbly as she looked back at the swinging Buquet and cringed.

She descended and it was chaos.

Granted, the play was personally offensive and watching Carlotta croak was hysterical- but this was too far. This was the equivalency of bringing a gun to a knife fight.

Although Mia tried to stay out of the light and blend in with the rest of the panicked crew, she failed.

"Cassia!" She heard and turned to the disheveled Viscount, he froze at the sight of her, “What happened to you?”

In her haze of chaos, she waved her hand to him, "Please, senorita or Mia, monsieur."

"Where is she?"

Mia shook her head because she honestly did not know where Christine was, "I tried to warn you all, monsieur. This is not a grand battle, this is fate. This opera is not yours, once you accept that everyone may be safe," She pleaded to hope to find sense in someone if anyone.

"Not at the cost of her-" As though on cue the dressed Christine ran up to them and grabbed Raoul's hand.

"Come with me, Raoul! We must get out of here." She looked at Mia with those pleading eyes like a child caught out of bed too late and Mia sighed.

Trying to keep some balance for the havoc that Erik purposely instilled, "Leave, now, and quickly. " Monsieur Firmin had brushed past her, running to the stage to talk to the crowd as the body was already dragged off the stage and Mia shook her head.

Christine nodded, "The roof!" She dragged her boytoy towards a staircase and Mia wanted to hit her head on the wall. Yes. Leave through the roof. The child was kind, but truly not the brightest bulb.

"An accident!" Firmin said loudly while looking at her from the stage but she was in no state to bring some order to this place in the meantime. Christine and Erik would have to fend for themselves.

The dangling body of Buquet hung in front of her eyes lids when she closed them. She did not like the man, that was true. And her side hurt something cruel. But he promised her that it would never be her… but could he be so sure?

She took the first pathway down to the lair when the shock began to wear off. A finely threaded towel was taken up to be pressed hard to her wound. It was causing her to almost limp as she held and threw apart their kitchen for the shamblings of a medical kit.

His laugh was so…. Ghost-like, so cruel.

The more she thought about it, the more she needed to be sure that the girl was alright. Christine was not a genius, and either was her sweetheart, but neither deserved harm for that reason.

It was a quick, messy, job but she successfully wrapped a bandage around the wound. She had things to do. With a new blouse over the bandage, she began out again.

 

Quietly and swiftly she donned a dark cloak of Erik’s and went to the roof from her room. The crisp cool air caused her to shiver as she began to hear the chiming voices.

They were both familiar but not Erik's and Christine's.

Out of their line of sight, she put her back to a stone statue that occupied the space by the door down.

Just in time too, as the seemingly happy couple left hand in hand, Mia catching Christine's delighted words, "You'll guard me and you'll guide me."

The song of her friend, if she could call him that after his behavior, made her heart once again sore for him, despite all of it.

"I gave you my music, made your song take wing." He came out from behind his own statue and she watched him pick up the dying red rose on the frozen roof, "And now, how you've repaid me; denied me and betrayed me."

His voice cracked and Mia bit her lip deciding to go to him or to stay in her place, "He was bound to love you when he heard you sing," He sighed in a sound similar to a sob.

Clearly upset, he tried to cover his ears at the reoccurring voices that haunted his dreams of happiness, "You will curse the day you did not do, all that the Phantom asked of you!" Mia's sorrow for him still existed but she was reminded of his abilities and she wanted to back off the roof.

She couldn't. She wanted to help him like he helped her. Why? Because. She knew that was a bad reason.

She should've back away. Instead, she stood center stage behind him, "You've taught me so much," Her voice was weak, but at hearing it Erik froze, "You've helped me learn to fly,"

Her tone was growing into something Erik had never heard from her as he turned his head to the side, "You've given me a heaven and a haven and a home," Mia knew she would only have one shot at this if she was too, "You've supported me, more than I ever knew." If she did, maybe she would've been more careful.

"Mia…" He spoke by a tone of apology and warning,

Why was she doing this, "Erik, she doesn't love you," He turned on her was a harsh glare but at her face, his was wiped. She had tears on her cheeks and her eyes were red, "Please, what would you tell me?"

He shook his head as it hurt and felt much too crowded, "Cassia, leave me be."

She nodded and he could hear her sigh from the other side of the roof as she moved toward the stairwell. He, " He barely heard her mumble “What love will you never know," But Mia told herself that he wouldn't have wanted to hear anyways.

The two walked down, Mia several steps behind.

Erik walked out of her room and Mia stayed shellshocked for a moment before hearing him shout, “Your side needs stitching ma chanson. Come along.”

She wanted to shout, she wanted to sob. His patronizing tone was ridiculous after just denying her. Rejecting her.

With as much storm as she could manage, “Don’t you go have a fairytale to ruin.” Erik noted her pout as she sat in the chair in their dining room that he’d pulled out. His cloak was over the counter with his gloves.

With his sleeves rolled up, he straightened out the medical supplies that she’d made quite the mess of on the table, “Maybe some other night.” He sounded as broken as she was. Some part of her was glad.

He didn’t meet her eye but stared at her right side, already bleeding through the new shirt, “That is not your best work.”

She scoffed and began taking off her shirt so he could work. He turned his back immediately and she rolled her eyes, “Do you plan on stitching my side blindfolded then?”

He spoke calmly, “I need no lessons on the female anatomy ma chanson.”

“Good because I was not planning on giving any.” For his sake, she let down her hair and used the tie to tie the shirt back and out of his way, “You may look.”

When he turned back his face was neutral and trained on the bloody bandage.

His work was silent as he unrolled the material, tossing it aside, “It’s about 12 centimeters long and 8 deep.” He reached for the strongest bottle of alcohol he could find and for the first time in a long time looked at Mia with only kindness, “This will sting.” She would kill for that look.

She leaned back and nodded. Erik only gave himself a moment to admire the determination of her features before pouring the alcohol. To her credit, she didn’t scream.

Erik watched every muscle in her face and torso tense in as she grabbed his free hand so tightly it hurt, “Shhhhhhh ma chanson, shhhhhhhh.” Her breathing shuddered and she twisted in her seat. Erik had to press her shoulder back to restrain her as he continued to whisper in the most soothing voice he could conjure.

At his voice she continued to take calming breaths. He stopped pouring and started dapping it dry. The hand on her shoulder reached up to brush the hair from her face, “Halfway there ma Chanson.” He looked to the drawn-up syringe of morphine, this would not be easy.

“Don’t.” Mia’s voice was hoarse.

Erik sighed before taking up the needle and thread, “Then sit still.” Mia nodded and Erik went right to his sewing, trying not to feel Mia trembling beneath him or hear her pained breathing.

Mia was strong and clever, gorgeous and determined. She deserved better than to be the basement of some opera house being sewn up by a monster. She should never have been placed in Buquet’s path. He should’ve taken the man out earlier. Now here they were. Mia delusional and speaking of love, disagreeing with him not two hours since she claimed to have given up.

As soon as he finished he packed the supplies back up and let Mia relax in her chair.

“Erik?” She took his lack of response as a response, “Would you give me a lullaby?”

The man chuckled, “No to morphine but yes to my music. I'm honored.” 


	10. In Which the Shit Hits the Fan

Mia watched it all, Christine’s madness slowly developing, a twin to her own.  The girl saw Erik in every corner when Mia could see he wasn’t present. She must have heard his voice too because the girl was very jumpy.

It was clear she was being shunned on top of it, The ballet rats now choosing to believe the story of the girl who must have slept with the patron to get the leading role.

“What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us?”

Her voice was beautiful but… lacking. Andre cut her off, “Mademoiselle,” He seemed to be thinking, “Perhaps with a little more…” He caught himself again, “Maybe draw out the-“ He stopped mid-sentence as Mia walked forward.

“Respectfully maestro, perhaps chorus should get lunch. Miss Daae and I will continue.” The man looked grateful that he did not have to have this conversation as the chorus noisily found themselves leaving for lunch.

Mia walked to the piano and took a seat, “Christine,” The woman jumped as if surprised to hear her and they looked at one another for a long time, “It’s okay.”

The woman smiled and shook her head, “Of ‘course, would you like to run it again?”

“What Monsieur Andre was failing to convey is that those words can be made more sensual.” Her hands came to rest on the keys but she did not begin or look away from Christine.

The woman was turning a bright red and eyeing the rafters suspiciously as if afraid to respond so Mia looked out to box five and pointed, “Leave.” The word was not a shout, but it was a command. She turned back to the girl, “Continue mademoiselle.”

Christine whispered the next part over the piano, “They all already think I’m a harlot! What good will my freedom be if I’m alone anyway!”

Mia smiled a knowing smile and began playing into Don Juan’s part, “Freedom to be alone is very important.” She cleared her thought before beginning to sing.

The very words seemed to make Christine blush, but the facial expressions Mia performed were even worse, they practically had Christine laughing. The exaggerated half-lidded smile was her favorite. Especially because Mia followed it up by sticking her tongue out and smiling broadly.

By the time Christine began she almost missed her entrance because she was enjoying Mia’s performance so much. When she caught up with the music she had her own confidence and Mia could hear the same exaggeration in her voice now.

An amused Erik watched from the balcony. He had seen Mia’s faked command to him as he certainly was not in box five but was glad for it. Christine appeared less bashful without him present.

And Mia. Well, she was never bashful.

Mia was everything dark and succulent about his word. But Christine was his light and his angel. She was perfection incarnate. Mia was tempestuous, contradictory, and cynical. Christine was naïve, and idealistic, and demure. She was beauty made for museums and paintings.

Mia had him questioning if he wanted that.

She was wrong. He’d prove it to her.

The two went back and forth practicing their “seductive” tones and laughing in comfort until the end of the song when they just sounded perfect.

“A little harlot never hurt nobody,” Mia said and Christine laughed in response.

“Your husband must be happy with that sentiment!” Immediately the girl’s mouth snapped shut and her hand flew to it, “Oh! I’m so sorry, that was terribly rude!”

Mia laughed this time and showed her hands, “I have no husband Christine, don’t worry.”

The girl smiled in relief, “But you love someone, right? I know you’re not the phantom’s mistress.”

The older woman spoke softly looking down at her hands, “Sometimes I wish,” Her voice continued in a whisper before Christine could think too much on it, “You are correct mademoiselle, but I will leave you to your lunch. Thank you for working with me.” In another life they might have been friends to gossip over lost loves and new crushes with, but Mia was going on 25 years old and her time for girlhood friends was over.

Mia was walking away her heels clicking on the stage as she did when she heard Christine’s dress spinning and the much too loud accusation leave her lips, “You love _him_?” Her tone was one of disgust and fear that Mia recoiled at, “How?” They would not have been friends anyway.

The best response was none at all, Mia decided, as she kept walking. Certainly not to look up to the balcony where Erik sat. No, her eyes remained set ahead and her step never faltered.

Christine ran after her but Mia kept her pace, through the stone hallways and behind doors that have gone untouched and unnoticed. Only once she was quite sure that the Phantom could not have followed her did she stop and let the girl chasing her catch up. Still clutching her script and notes Christine was looking at Mia with newly realized fear and something Mia might call pity. 

Once it was quiet for an awkward amount of time Christine asked, "Could you make him stop all of this?" 

Mia was staring at her, trying to see a hint of the perfection that Erik was so such existed but Mia could only see a scared young girl so unsure of herself yet wishing to have a future to grow into, "If I knew how I certainly would." Christine's eyes were tearing up and Mia reached for her hands, "Mademoiselle, have faith." 

"In what?"

The question broke Mia's heart as she realized what the angel had personified to Christine and all that the girl was working through herself, "In yourself. You currently have two men, neither of whom are listening to your concerns-"

"Raoul's trying-"

"He went from saying that the managers couldn't make you to demanding you do this. You have a prince attempting to play hero and a man playing at being a god," Mia smiled, "So what do you want to be?" 

Christine stared at her, blue eyes into brown before she spoke, "Free. I want to be free."

Mia nodded, "Me too. That's all I've ever wanted. So believe in yourself, this story is not over yet." 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

How unlike they were, yet how alike; both to tears at the thought of injury to either man or to anyone. Christine was just more vocal with her cries, Mia suffered in silence. Mia felt her skin itch anytime she was close to Erik and felt him avoiding her.

A child of the light, and a child of the night. It was at that moment that Mia remembered a promise that would overshadow all others. She would not be kept by some man. Mia would leave.

Erik was playing one of the pieces of his new opera, excited because it was the morning of opening night. The piece, Past the Point Of No Return, Mia knew she had given him the title so long ago, but she no longer cared. The passion and the raw seduction the song offered mocked her as she listened in the doorway to her room.

With a suitcase in her hands, she dressed in her trousers and braided her hair. Her cloak, the same black embroidered cloak that had been gifted to her so long ago to give her protection from the cold, and she had taken a few of Erik's coins, but only because she knew he wouldn't even notice they were missing. Same with his collection of Persian knives.

He kept playing as she closed her door and locked it. Weeks ago, when Mia knew of Erik’s alchemy collection, she had switched the lock. Now it locked from inside and Erik hadn't even noticed. She followed her secret passage up to the attic. Normally, it would lead her to the roof, but that was only because she never took the alternative route.

A letter and white rose were being delivered to Antoinette, Raoul, and Christine. Each containing an apology. Another sat on Erik's table with two white roses. Callously, Mia told herself it was for each half of his heart that would soon be broken after that night. Honestly, she knew one was for his heart, and the other for the heart she left behind.

The streets were just waking up and Mia knew Erik wouldn't notice her absence before the streets bustled and he wouldn't step into the world of the living for her.

She may have made deals with the devil, but that just meant that she would need to escape the fire.

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"Mia!" Erik shouted as he knocked on her door and checked the time, "We must leave now, are you ready?" He stood waiting for a response before realizing that he hadn't heard from her all day whenever he would say something aloud expecting a response. Reluctantly, he turned the door knob to find it locked, and the lock changed. He remembered the lock being on the outside before… when did she change it? Why did she change it? Immediately, he kicked the door hard, forcing it open.

Looking around the room he found it despairingly empty, "Mia?" He tried again. Then came the winter draft and his eyes fell to the Persian rug that he had placed over the only passage out of her room. He knew it was there, but why would she have taken it?

Trying to ignore the raising level of shame and panic in his heart he went to the kitchen hoping to find some note of her location, only to see two pure white roses on the small table that they took meals at… when they were on better terms than recently.

Suspicion rose in him and he found a black envelope with them. Carefully he unsealed it and read,

_Mi Fantasma,_

_  
In case you have not noticed, I am now far from your "estate" and I wish you luck in your endeavors, but only luck. Please, understand, this is not a matter of love, but a train wreck that I cannot watch. You had been nothing but kind to me before now, and I do believe you still innocent of everything except a foolish heart and a determined mind. I would forgive you for a lot, because you've forgiven me for every time I scratched you with a knife, or pushed you off the rafters, or made you late because I took too long. I cannot forgive you for making my heaven a hell these past few weeks, and I cannot watch you morph yourself into the devil you believe yourself to be. You cannot make me. I love you too much for that Erik._

_Sincerely,  
Ta Chanson_

He blinked through wet eyes. Tears. He finally drove her away. In angst, his hand crumbled the paper, not caring if the ink smeared.

She left him.

His song was gone.

She left her heaven- no, not her heaven, her hell. She said it herself. Erik knew it all along, she would leave, and it was best for her… she deserved better. His fate must be sealed tonight, for without an angel this hell would be unbearable.

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When Mia joked that the Opera Populaire would burn down if she was gone for too long… she was not serious. Yet now, with police carts moving quickly in that direction and the screams she could hear, even from up the road.

She needed to go back. That was her home and there was a girl in there that was too much like her for her to think about. Erik may have created a hell for her, but she could save it. It was her heaven, and she missed it, even after just twelve hours. The sun had made her irritated and the crowds made her edgy. This wasn't what she was used to anymore.

Not to mention, but everyone versus Erik is not fair. Raoul and Christine are going to need more help.

Still, in her boy clothing, she walked against the crowds pouring out of the Opera house and pushed through people until she found the first fastest tunnel to her destination.

She jumped the steps with speed and grace and readied whatever knives she may need from her calves as she sprinted through the halls she knew so well. Traps were stepping stones to her, barely an afterthought to avoid. Despite all that he taught her, she didn't believe she would ever need it. The chants of pillagers in her catacombs made her move faster. She couldn't let them get her.

"You've passed the point of no return."

"Angel of music, you deceived me! I gave my mind blindly!"

The gate was shut and Mia made out the shape of the Vicomte tied to it and she took a detour to get into the lair straight away by pulling herself up the stones and across the room.

Jumping down from the passage she landed gracefully on the stone ground as Erik just turned to face her and froze in his spot. He looked so tired and yet at the sight of her, his eyes lit up just enough.

Christine noticed her too and shook her head with tears in her eyes, "Pitiful creature of darkness. What kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone!" With a hand on Erik's shoulder, Christine turned him towards her, connecting his lips to hers as his hands went out, unsure of themselves. All he heard was the voice telling him he was not alone, while the image of his song, Mia stood before him.

Mia shuddered at it, before realizing Raoul's expression which must have looked similar to her own. Ignoring the kissing going on, she moved through the water to the Vicomte, "I'm going to cut the rope, you both are leaving this lair tonight, Paris by the week if you are smart."

Raoul nodded, gratefulness was written on his face, "You came back."

"I knew you wouldn't stand a chance." Raoul took offense to that comment, but Mia appreciated that he didn't fight her on it as she cut the rope.

Erik's command was so quiet, "Go." Mia paused in her cutting of the rope and looked at him. She was prepared to fight him if need be but the light in his eyes had gone out, the manic gone from his features, "Make them leave!" He called to her and she cut the rope in a swipe, letting Raoul run to Christine and hold her soundly.

Erik pulled the lever for the gate up and staggered back to his piano, "Don't let them find you!" The chants were still ringing through this place and Erik's face was agony, "Take the boat, promise me never to tell," He met eyes with Mia before shaking his head and backing into his piano screaming, "The secrets you know of this angel in hell!" His voice was tortured, mad with sadness and anger.

Mia nodded to Christine and Raoul in the boat, "Go now!" She motioned them out as Christine tried to reach back for her and Raoul pulled her, "Forget this, go!”

"Go!" Erik shouted as he pushed Mia with the pair and shouted, "Go now and leave me!" The boat took off but Mia only stepped off fluidly onto the stones as Erik stayed crippled on the ground, shaking in cries.

Mia approached the shore cautiously, as the music box began to play and she froze when Erik moved towards it, "Masquerade, paper faces on parade. Hide your face so the world will never find you." He was crying by the end of it, the sound of it clenching at her chest.

The chants in the tunnels were getting louder and she couldn't ignore them.

She crouched, "Erik?" She said softly but he remained nonresponsive, other than sobs, "Erik, I need to ward off these people, can you help me?"

His form shook on the ground and he looked up at her, completely broken, "Say you knew no better. Let them find me."

Mia's eyes took in the lair, her home and her eyes narrowed, "I refuse."

In a single motion, she put plans into motion as the put the gate back down with a CLANG that rang through the halls and made the pillagers pause. Then she put her voice to good use, transmitting it off the walls, as loud as she could down every tunnel, "Stop where you stand!"

The chanting stopped and the noise stopped. Suspense thickened in the air. She knew chatter would begin, but she only went to work with the electric panel of their lair, she laughed purposefully and girlishly. It bounced eerily through the caverns.

She strung as many wires into the water as she could and threw every breaker in the opera house that was still functioning, rerouting each to this place. In her imagination, the electricity crackled through the wires into the waters of the lake.

Meg, who was listening with her mob was confused and looked around for her friend who had left, "Mia?"

Mia's voice sounded again, "I am giving you to the count of three to get out of my waters!"

The persons all began to look at each other in disbelief but as though Mia saw that coming she continued, "Yes, these are MY waters, and this is MY opera house! Have you never heard hell has no fury like a woman SCORNED!" Her voice traveled and bounced and Meg jumped at the sound of her anger.

 _Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned, and heaven has no wrath as a woman’s love to hatred turned.-_ Mia never expected to be proving Shakespeare right but regardless. Christine had played her part, now it was her turn.

Several got out of the water tunnels, a few laughed at the woman playing god as they called it.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

Meg didn't know what happened, but anyone that stood in the water dropped a second after Mia's last number. It kept happening, the people appeared paralyzed and unresponsive before they fell into the water. They didn’t even struggle to swim, they just… drowned.

The splashes were audible and several people reached for them but stopped themselves before their hands touched the water. Meg didn't try, she backed up. Then she ran back to her mother because this didn't make any sense.

Mia fetched a pair of rubber boots that she bought last season. and set them carefully on the stone before switching off the power to the lair from the power box. She didn't know how many she just electrocuted but at the moment, her heart and mind were too tired and empty to care.

She sat beside Erik, soaked and exhausted, “You are an idiot.” She said the words even though they felt like kicking a dog that was down.

“She could have saved me.” Was his broken reply.

They sat on the stone steps until Mia's dress dried and the noise completely died down leaving them with only their thoughts. 


	11. Stay, I Pray You

"I know Antoinette," Mia said serving tea to the two other women at her table, "I do, but I cannot leave this place. It has been my home for so long."

The older woman glanced at the door that had been shut since they arrived, "Mia, you must understand the severity of the situation up there. They are not fooling around; a guard is positioned at their known entrances. If you didn't install so many small alerts or traps… they would have gotten down here already." Although rarely closely conversing, Mia and Antoinette Giry had reached an early compromise that neither wanted Erik hurt, however, in the times that followed their jobs had helped each other form a mutual sense of respect.

Mia nodded in acknowledgment, she knew she couldn't last down here too much longer, "It's just, very overwhelming," she excused her shortcomings and Antoinette looked into her tea. A small voice mumbled from the table and Mia sat down with them, "Speak up Meg."

"I'm glad you came back." Meg held a fondness for Mia and Erik, even if her interaction with the latter was limited. She knew Mia liked him, her mother liked him, and that was enough for her.

The senorita smiled, "Me too," And she was truly glad she came back because if she had not… she did not want to think about that. What made this life so difficult now was that she had to take of Erik at the same time.

"Are we going to get a glimpse of the mastermind behind this resolution?" Madame Giry called and Mia winced at the statement as though it was salt in the wound. Yet even salt in the wound would not hurt as much as the silence that followed. Always silence.

With a cough, Mia stood, dumping her not drunken tea down the drain, "Most likely not," I rarely do, she held back saying. She still had to check on him from time to time, last time he was passed out in vomit, although Mia had no idea what exactly he was throwing up since he barely ate. Luckily, Mia was almost past the days of wrestling broken glass from his hands and bandaging his wrists.

Antoinette met Meg's eyes while Mia tried to appear busy to cure her restlessness, "Mia, I know you do not want to but it would be for the best if you-"

"Had chosen a different sewer to hide in several years ago," Mia muttered with a tired sigh before refiguring her sympathetic face on as she turned around to a confused pair who had not heard her. They continued their conversation.

But, as always, words that are meant to be unheard usually are the sounds of laughter or sadness. Erik heard everything in his home, and he did not laugh.

"Please, Madame, Mademoiselle, go, I will give you money if you need it, but go and start a new life."

As much as Meg wanted that, to start over, Mia's tone told her everything her words did not. Mia would not start over if she didn't have to, yet she would give them the opportunity, "But you-"

"Can handle myself," Mia assured the young girl, "I'm resourceful and determined. I am not captive here."

Antoinette took the last sip of her tea and sighed, "You do not think so," Mia was trapped in her own unreal expectations and hopes. Yet, they both knew that she would get what she wanted in the end, and if not then she would die trying, "If you need anything," A card was exchanged and Mia nodded and thanked them.

She knew he had gotten something the moment she walked into his room. His eyes were alight and the smile was too cruel for him these days as she turned on lights. Although his face was unmasked it was those eyes and that smile that scared her more.

“I don’t know whether to be proud you went out for drugs, or ashamed.” She went to pick up the discarded needle but his laughter, high pitched, a truly awful note stopped her.

“Why are you still here Cassia?” The tone was made to insult her as it crawled over her skin.

He was sitting at the piano in his room, not playing it, but watching her over his shoulder as she straightened, “Because I love the ghost I met, not whatever you’ve been lately.” She wanted to run out of the room but his eyes seemed to pin her to the Persian carpet beneath her feet, “We should get going.”

His movements were slow and deliberate, but Mia couldn’t help but feel they were predatory as he approached her and she reached for the knife at the small of her back reflexively, “You can leave this hell anytime you want.” It wasn’t a lie.

But how long he’d last by himself was a different story, “Do you really hold me in such low esteem that you think I’d leave you down here?”

Erik laughed, a crazed sound that made Mia hide a cringe as he came even closer and she took a step back as he stood a foot in front of her, “You’ve left before.” His voice was low and full of mocking, but Mia had heard so much of it recently that it lost it’s bite, “An angel burned by the flames?”

“It would make two of us.”

Erik had a hand up as if to grab her in anger, but he thought better of it at the last minute, “I am no angel.” The words were sad, and his face lost it’s edge and fell into a stoicism that followed the mania, “What have I done to you?” His entire body curled in on itself as he slumped, crawling to the floor and toward his coffin of a bed, the floor littered with discarded needles, papers, pens, and broken glass from bottles of whiskey.

Mia sighed as she crouched towards him, but he took no comfort from her, only crawling into his coffin and curling in on himself. Mia stood, leaving the room momentarily to start some tea.

When she returned, the first thing she noticed was the tang of blood in the air. She was running for the coffin even as she took in Erik’s slit wrists, the chards of glass in his hands, the streams of blood coming from them. One hung over the lip of the coffin and the red painted the hardwood floor. As she got closer she saw the slight inflation of his chest, a breath.

Mia immediately began swearing as she grabbed his right arm first, the one dangling from the coffin. She tore quickly as her skirt and wrapped the wound tightly, but it was bleeding so fast, “Erik, listen to me,” She kept it elevated on the side of the coffin for a second while she wrapped the other wrist, “I want you to live. You need to live alright!”

She held both up in the air and applied as much pressure as clenching down on the wrap would provide, “Please don’t die,” Tears may have been dripping from her cheek, if the form they fell on was awake to feel them, “You can’t die. I don’t allow it.” What she wouldn’t give for some help… someone to move the piano bench over. If she could get him propped up- she attempted propping his neck and head up on the pillows in his coffin while still holding his wrists as tight as possible.

The sight of the wounds was blurry in her mind and she cursed herself for not being sounder-more minded. She did not know if they were deep or shallow even, just that she was waiting for them to stop bleeding. Her toes were stained with the red she was standing in and she tried not to focus on the stickiness of blood.

A few minutes later, she added another torn strip of a skirt to each wrist and tied tightly. She continued standing over Erik, holding his wrists straight up.

After what seemed like hours, the blood never made it all the way through her second bandage attempt. Erik was pale beneath her, unmoving, but she saw the flutter of his chest that was his breathing.

A sigh of relief come to her lips and if she wasn’t so angry, she might have hugged the still unconscious made beneath her. As it was, she was angry. Breathing deeply, she continued to stand there for good measure until she thought she saw his eyelids begin to flutter. She continued holding his wrists but moved to the side of the coffin while doing so.

“Erik?” No response, his eyes went back to motionless. Mia sighed kneeling beside him and waiting.

Again it seemed like hours until he opened his eyes and when he did it was slow and painfully, “M-m-Mia?” His voice was not smooth but broken and a cry.

Mia couldn’t bring herself to sound overjoyed, “Erik?”

He pulled his arms from her lightly, looking at her bandage job. He groaned deeply, his hands coming to cover his unmasked face as he spoke chidingly, “You ruined your hem.”

“You bastard,” She practically hissed it at him, “Of course, I ruined my hem! You got high then slit your wrists.”

“I remember.”

“And?”

Erik tried sitting up but the blood loss caused him to lie back down again wearily, “Are you looking for an apology?”

“No,” Mia realized that was exactly what she was looking for, “I’m looking for you to stop being such a self-absorbed and self-loathing maniac.” Despite the harsh words, her pout made it a softer blow as Erik looked at her.

“Oh, ma chanson… you have always made me better.” His eyes closed tiredly and Mia jumped.

“No! You can’t sleep yet!” Erik’s eyes opened again and he attempted sitting up, this time with more success.

“And why not?”

Mia slipped an arm around him gracefully giving him support when his body immediately began to fall again, “I will not be leaving you alone,” She helped him to stand, although he almost tripped out of his coffin on the lip, “So you are relocating, to my room.”

Erik was practically dead weight, dizzy from blood loss as she dragged him, “Where will you sleep?”

Mia didn’t answer him, only continued the suddenly very long trek to her bed, where she let him flop down unceremoniously.

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It was raining on the dirt street as the bay horse galloped, kicking up the sopping mud behind it. The rider wore their treasured cloak, although that too was soaked as the hood dripped water down their face. The buildings around were dark and the street empty on this dismal night.

A man sat at home, pleasantly reading his newspaper from the morning previous and drinking tea by the fire. His estate was on the outskirts of Paris, very conspicuous considering the life he ran from previously. Although a middle-class estate, it was much smaller than his former estate in Persia, through the years, he had become more and more accustomed to it.

"Do you need anything else sir?" His faithful servant called from the doorway of the study to the man.

The green eyes of the seated Persian turned in response, "I'm fine for the night Darius, you know how I love these storms." They were too different from the climate of his home, which was too far away now. He couldn't have stayed there anyways; still he didn't need the reminder with every roll of thunder.

The doorbell rang as the Persian looked to his servant curiously, he did not receive many visitors. The visitors he did receive never came in the middle of the night, accompanied by rain and storm. Darius disappeared to answer the door while the newspaper folded once more and the jade eyed man became unsettled by the arguing that could be overheard.

He had stood when Darius came to the door way of the study looking agitated, "Sir, there is a-" He was interrupted by a sopping wet figure standing behind him in a black cloak that concealed their face. "I had requested you wait by the door-"

"Nadir Khan?" The figure spoke causing the Persian to furrow his brows and move closer to hear, "I need your help." Examining the figure, the cloak was black and beaded in some places with a small red rose in the bottom corner. The boots were high and laced, the pants black and Nadir couldn't see anything else but by the voice…

He tilted his head at the concern in the figure's voice and the anxiety, "I do not typically receive Mademoiselles in my household past dark." Something told him this woman, and he knew it to be a woman, wouldn't care for propriety. Maybe because she was dripping on his hard wood floors and seemed entirely annoyed at both males in the room.

Her hood fell back with a push from her hand, her dark tangled hair was wet and tumbled out of the holding it was in, "I tied my horse to your fence, I understand that looks odd and I'm sorry. I could not steal a carriage in such short notice."

Nadir examined the woman's soft face, tan, Spanish presumably, brown eyes- pleading eyes although her tone held indignation, "Darius, you may leave us. I believe mademoiselle Canta and I have met. Would you like a seat?”

The girl watched the servant leave the room before considering the arm seat that Nadir offered, "I'm soaked, I fear I would ruin the fabric." The Persian laughed and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Would you let me take your coat?" He asked moving towards her but she stepped back and he froze cautiously, "You come for me for help but do not let me help you?"

She seemed stunned by this, "No Monsieur, my apologies, I cannot stay long. But I need assistance.” Her left hand played with the beading on her soaked cloak as she stared at him, “Erik needs some assistance.”

Nadir smiled grimly, lifting the paper that he’d thrown on the end table, “I’ve seen.”

"Oh, Erik…" She sighed and Nadir knew he was going to be helping her, "Que ti vamos a hacer?" her words were mumbled and he didn't understand them but he understood her tone.

"Darius," Nadir spoke to his servant who appeared to be waiting just outside the room, "Pack a small bag for me please, I presume we leave tonight?" Mia's smiled grew as she placed the newspaper back in its place.

"I cannot get him to leave the lair, although we desperately need to do so."

Nadir nodded and Darius resigned to leaving the room in order to follow instructions, "One part of the story I did not quite understand soprano's flight?" He remembered the section where they described the phantom's fascination with the lead soprano, yet with this woman standing in front of him claiming to be Erik's friend; it did not make much sense.

As though reading his mind she started by saying, "Well, Erik has been nonsensical since the discovery of this girl's voice and nonsense fascination became obsessions. He found himself in love with her and what she offered him, which was perfection." Mia paused in her story as she realized there sat a piano on the far wall and began walking in that direction, "She loved another, however, and Erik took desperate steps to try and force her love," She pressed down on the classic Phantom chord, "Obviously, it did not end well for him." She played the succeeding notes and relished in the tuned instrument.

Nadir nodded with her story and listened to her playing, "And you claim Erik has never been violent to you before?"

Mia's playing paused, "I didn't say that," Then she double corrected herself, "Among my first years with him I took off his mask," Nadir hissed air and Mia laughed, "Yea, that did not go well, but we got past that without any real injury. Right now he isn't even temperamental. He just refuses to eat, leave his room, and has had a few suicidal actions that brought me here." Somehow that did not surprise Nadir.

Darius reentered the room with a satchel of sorts and his master's coat, "Would you like a carriage sir?"

With all the activity around the opera house, a carriage would draw attention to them. He knew that was what Mia really was thinking with the single horse and he knew she was probably right. Spinning the knife skillfully in his hand, he turned the handle to her and she smiled admirably, "Would it hurt your pride or propriety to ride on the same horse as me?"

She took the knife and shook his hand immediately after doing so, "It would be an honor, it's not like I have propriety, to begin with," His smile almost matched hers as he shook her hand, "Is it going to hurt your pride to ride behind me?"

Nadir laughed, "I would say a pleasure, but that may be perceived wrongly."

This time Mia laughed, "Oh no monsieur, I think of it as a compliment." Her wink made him freeze before laughing nervously again, quickly learning her humor, "Shall we?"

"I do not appreciate this," Erik hissed at his companion as Nadir Khan walked into her room. He could only hiss though, as his ankles and wrists were tightly bound to the four posts of her bed with his very own rope.

"Welcome to my world," She murmured as she came into the room and went to the wardrobe.

Nadir observed the broken man, maskless with bandages around his wrists, "Hello Erik."

"Daroga," Was Erik's terse response and Nadir knew this would be difficult, “Can you convince her to untie me?”

When Nadir met Mia’s eyes across the room she glared daggers at the man on her bed, “Up until last night, the withdrawal symptoms controlled you more than any of your mind.”

Erik wouldn’t look at her, just looked at an interesting part of the ceiling.

“Well,” Mia said after watching him another moment. She took up her dressing gown and a few more articles from the wardrobe, “With Nadir here, perhaps he’ll be kinder. Meanwhile, I need a very warm bath.” She went to her bathing room and shut the door without a glance back. She needed a long bath, and a nap, and some lavender. Maybe a new life while she was at it.

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There was a fire in the fireplace as Mia sat elegantly with her book in her dressing gown one night.

Nadir placed a cup of tea next to her on the end table wordlessly and she gave a grateful smile over her pages. An ease had developed between them and Erik watched from the archway to the dining room and tried not to glower as Mia would likely scold him for it.

Her, scold him for it. As if he wasn’t a grown man.

“You could join us,” The words were airy but Erik heard the coarse undertone, the tension in her voice as he looked at her. Her eyes hadn’t left her book to look at him but he knew she was speaking to him.

“Too domestic for my tastes.” He replied coolly, retreating to his room once more. It wasn’t a lie, it killed him to see Mia angry with him, but she always was these days. He preferred not to see her.

During the day she left the home, that was when he moved around the most. Her disappointment in him was stifling at all other times.

Between the two of them, Erik would leave his room now, occasionally, always wearing his black mask now. Nadir would argue with him fully, much like his and Mia's shouting matches except, he didn't back down. In fact, he usually got Erik to concede.

Mia and Nadir were playing chess one day in the living room, Erik sitting on the piano bench but watching only their game. Mia’s legs were crossed in black leggings and she twirled a pawn distractedly in her fingers while thinking. Her top teeth biting her lip. Nadir, the perfect gentleman, did his best not to notice. Erik on the other hand only noticed the circles under her eyes, the weight she’d lost in her center, the way that pants that once clung to her shape seemed to hang. The shirt had always been large and she seemed to hide in it now. Her dresses were similar, Erik had noticed, as she stopped wearing them as often.

“Checkmate,” Mia said smoothly, stopping her twirling and smirking up at the Persian who’s eyes widened in surprise before laughing.

“How did I not even notice!” Mia’s sleight of hand was remarkable, and she continued smirking as she sat back with a wink.

“Again?” Her question was more of a challenge but somewhere a bell rang. An alarm.

She was up in the same instant Erik was and for the first time that week their eyes met. It was a clash of emotions that all seemed to swarm her face at once and Erik couldn’t make out any of them before she shut down and her eyes turned dull.

“I can handle it,” She was putting on her cloak and Erik moved to don his own but her hand touched him as he reached and he recoiled from the contact with a growl. The emotion was clear in her face then, just for a moment; hurt, “Stay, I pray you.”

Her illusion of a smile was back up to Nadir as she walked past Erik, “I’ll return shortly.”

Erik watched her with cautious eyes as she disappeared through one of the many passages, never looking back at him, “I try to help and she-“

Nadir cut him off, “Come humor a sore loser won’t you Erik?” The tall pale man sighed and sank down in the seat next to the board, “You two haven’t talked, I take it.” He was resetting the pieces.

Erik didn’t say anything, mentally categorizing what he should talk to Mia about. What did they have to discuss? She left. She came back. He attempted to kidnap the leading soprano and kill her fiancé. He didn’t. What else was there to say?

Beyond Mia’s crushing disappointment and broken in faith in him, of course. That much was evident in her eyes. Then there were the words in ink that he could sometimes see on his eyelids while he tried to sleep.

_I love you too much for that…_

Christine never could have loved him. Mia was right. She was a child still, and one that was still afraid of the dark. But that did not mean that his heart was anything close to healed.

The Daroga was already finished with his third move when Erik responded, “About what?”

The Persian raised his eyebrows, “She’s fiercely loyal to you. I know that much, but from what I’ve seen you barely tolerate her existence as much as you do mine.”

Erik scowled, eyes trained on the board in front of him, “Do not presume to understand the woman, Daroga, or myself.”

“No, I know better. But nothing will change if neither of you-“

“Apologies have never been our forte.”

Nadir sighed low and their game continued. Later, Mia returned with a light step and an airy, “Did you boys miss me?”

Erik dryly replied before Nadir had the chance to, “Daroga here was deeply worried.”

Mia’s forced laugh lit up the air, “Oh, I didn’t know you cared so much!” She teases without a second hesitation.

“Of course he does. Pretty women and fast horses are always Nadir’s weakness.”

Mia hung up her cloak again and disappeared, putting water on in the kitchen, happily singing a tune as she went. Nadir just stared at Erik. That was the most normalcy he had seen in the three weeks he’d been down here with them.

Erik only repeated, very softly, “Apologies are not our forte.”

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"You're welcome," Mia said as he sat at the table to a plate of roast beef and potatoes, her tone was light but Nadir who got his own plate knew better, and so did Erik.

She hadn't spoken to him directly since Nadir arrived and yet he could still read her actions well enough. Knowing the situation, however, his Persian friend was the best relief of the tensions in the room, "Thank you Mia," He patted her back as he moved past her and she stirred the boiling water.

Her easy smile returned as she looked over her shoulder at the two men seated her eyes meeting Nadir's, "My pleasure."

The table was round, and with the three of them she would be sitting between them but she had been refusing to eat with them lately, not rudely, just not sitting down, "My head is aching, would you excuse me?" She wasn't looking for an answer, so Erik didn't give one. Nadir, however, nodded graciously. Mia disappeared from the kitchen scene.

The two men ate in silence.

Erik finally broke the silence, "Her head does not hurt."

His companion looked up surprised at the sound. They may talk regularly but it was usually Nadir provoking conversation, and Erik talking if interested, "How do you know?"

The masked man shook his head and cut his beef, "When her head hurts she gets unfocused and plays with her hair. She was doing neither."

Nadir nodded thoughtfully, "No, I suppose you are right." In hopes of getting Erik to reach the proper conclusion, he replied, "Why do you think she does not want to eat?"

Erik had noticed several things about his longtime friend in the past few days when he would travel from his room. She wore more trousers and corsets with an old shirt. Her hair was always up and tangled and her face had grown paler. He wouldn't have expected Nadir to notice, only knowing her a month but she had lost substantial weight.

With an irritated sigh Erik stood and went into his room leaving Nadir in confusion before reappearing with his own beaded cloak, "I'm conditioned to starve, you have another who hasn't even been making enough food for her to eat." His anger flared at having a reason to be angry as he entered her unlocked room followed closely by Nadir.

"Erik, she wanted rest-" Mia was nowhere in her room and Erik quickly moved to remove the tapestry that hid the tunnel out of her room, "You've taught her too well."

The guilt that Erik had been pushing away since the day Mia stared up at him on the rafters with a dead Joseph Buquet between them, hit him like a wave, "Unfortunately." He bound up the stairs and Nadir knew better than to try and follow the man, yet he hoped a first aid kit wouldn't be needed shortly. Perhaps he would take this time to search Erik's room… surely they would take a while.

Mia stood on the roof, the spring chill present as she shivered yet the air still felt lighter up here somehow, less dense on her shoulders. The lights beneath her twinkled and the carriages clopped while she stood on the edge of the roof feeling the breeze. Taking a deep breath she felt all the better about the situation. She was still at home, she reminded herself, even if it didn't feel that way.

"The common expression is that you're going to catch your death." Erik's melodic voice tuned in from the direction she knew and suddenly the air got denser and she took a deep breath to counter it.

Not stepping off the ledge, she replied, "Or fall to it," Erik's quick step towards her was unmistakable and she laughed when it met her ears, "Do not worry monsieur, I fear death too much still."

Erik ignored the feeling of wanting to pull her back onto the roof farther because it occurred to him that if she let her body go through pain and he had not noticed- then he was not guaranteed his usual look into her brain, "Then why do you refuse to eat?"

Somehow she smiled at that, "I do eat monsieur. Each morning I eat, then I go check on Caesar and his friends in the half-burned stable, and then to the traps, and then to the store and the newspost. Then I come home-"

"And stare wistfully at the piano while pretending to read a book while Nadir returns from his run out and then begins dinner." He finished for her, harsher than he meant to.

Despite the harsh tone, she nodded, although she did take it as a sign she could use harder tones, "Then again, if you know all that then why do you ask?" Mia never knew Erik to be particularly concerned.

He ran over the past month in his head, the number of times he asked her to leave him, to leave her hell, and still she stood here with him. His concerns for her were never questioned before, "Why should I not ask? You've gotten thinner-"

"That's a bit rude, don't you think?"

His eyes rolled on their own accord at her jab but continued, "And your eyes have become-"

Mia jumped down from the ledge to the roof and interrupted him, "My eyes? How would you know if you haven't looked at me?"

The guilt Nadir inspired splashed over him and with her eyes finally bearing into him he looked down, "Just because I do not meet your eyes doesn't mean I don't notice them." Within the past few days, his conversational skill rebuilt and he would often look at her wishing to apologize, desperate for forgiveness from SOMEONE for the things he had done.

"It looks like we are under another moonless sky tonight monsieur," Mia said absentmindedly, but it did nothing for his resolve even as Erik smirked at her aversion from the topic as always.

"It would appear so mi chanson."

"Erik," He had to stop himself from smiling at her use of his name, "Do you have any idea what it is like to be utterly rejected at every turn?" The roof tensions soared as she bent to pick up a dried rose that lay cold on the wet rooftop, and a dead petal fell to the ground. Just weeks ago, he had given that rose to someone who utterly rejected him at every turn.

He found the familiar defensiveness that made him want to fight and argue with her. The rose should go off the roof, he never wanted to see it again, the pain at being reminded of that night, but he remembered that Mia's voice was still small and instead said back powerfully, "Of 'course I have."

Mia's eyes closed as she looked down, "Of 'course you have," She repeated, and Erik began feeling guilty for even answering that way, "Then you understand why I haven't looked at you," She raised her eyes again to meet him and he suddenly understood the look in her eyes. He understood all too well, and the guilt hit him again and again. He had ruined her.

She held his gaze for a second before walking back to the edge of the roof and let the rose fall to the stone walk at the building's bottom, "Forgive me," She muttered before walking off in the direction of the tunnel and Erik struggled to find words.

"Cassia," He began and she stopped, "I did not think you a fool."

The tiny flame of hope was doused in her chest and she sighed, "Me either. Good night monsieur," As he heard her walk away, Erik knew that he said the wrong thing because she had not called him Monsieur since they first met. Now she referred to him, trying to be detached… for the best.

That night he found the crumpled letter in a corner of his room, untouched. He read it again.

The words meant different things, now that he was thinking clearly. It was about time he wrote a reply.


	12. Farewell

 

Mia woke to the sound of a single quick shout for her. It was panicked and it was Nadir's. She knew she should not have taken the electric pole out of the water.

Throwing her blue dress robe over her long shirt and tied the sash while she retrieved three of the knives that she kept on her nightstand and exited her room quickly, "Nadir!"

She froze as soon as she had a view of the lair, and there stood a man, a complete stranger, with a sword to Nadir's neck even as he struggled slightly, the man was younger, bigger. The leer on his face made Mia's blood go cold as she began regretting bringing Nadir here, putting him in this position, "So this is the great Mistress of the Opera house isn't it?"

Walking closer to the scene that occupied the lake off the steps she put her knives on the piano smoothly, "Welcome Monsieur, what brings you here to my domain?" Her arms opened wide as if welcoming and she took comfort in the swoosh of her robe’s skirt on the floor.

Nadir's arms almost appeared tied behind him and Mia sent him an apologetic look as the man roughly shoved him to make his struggling stop, "The boys said you weren't real, though I would prove it to them." He moved towards the shore with Nadir and Mia instinctively reached for a knife but as soon as her hand settled on one the man stopped, "Ah!" His sword scraped Nadir's neck and Mia dropped her hand quickly, "We wouldn't want anyone to get hurt would we?"

"Not at all," Mia replied as they reached the stone and she took in account of the already wet stone, indicating a fight of some sort, how did she just wake up? The man was young, possibly her age, possibly older, but she wouldn't mistake the anger in his eyes, "Why don't you bring your friends down here? I think we have some rum tucked away-"

He reached the stone and shoved Nadir up it with a tight grasp on him still while Mia stepped back to keep the advantage while her eyes flickered for anything else that would be helpful, "We prefer a different sort of proof, personally, a little revenge."

Mia raised her eyebrows challengingly, "Revenge? For what may I ask?"

"My father," The man replied as he nodded to Nadir, "You're going to walk this way, and switch places with him," Mia nodded, eager to get Nadir out of this fight, "He is going to tie himself to the piano while we leave, you got that chatelaine?"

"Understood," Mia said as she walked, hands in the air towards the defensive man and felt the rough pull on her hair and robe that brought her back to his chest and his sword to her throat, "Well this is comfy," She muttered to herself while she caught Nadir eyeing her knives on the piano, "Daroga," He looked at her alarmed, "Do as he says, I will be fine."

Nadir seemed hesitant and Mia knew the knot he tied was an easy knot to get out of, but it wouldn't matter. She felt herself being pulled backward on the stone and knew exactly when it dipped into the water, the cold froze her bare legs and she cursed the flimsy robe that stayed near the surface, "If we are getting this close monsieur I fear I must ask your name."

The water got to her waist and the man's voice was deep in her ear, "Michael Buquet, sound familiar?" She was hit with the image of the large man dropping from the rafters and Erik's cold laughter.

Withholding a gag, she nodded before her foot hit her first chance for a fight. Accidentally, her foot stepped on his and when he reacted by jerking his foot she fell towards the water with a purposely loud scream. Despite his tendencies to stay in his room and sleep the day away, Erik should have heard her.

Her arm hit the stone at the bottom of the lake as she caught herself and the man tried to jerk her back up, "Monsieur! It was an accident, it is difficult to walk backwards and be pulled,” She sat in a crouched position while her fingers grasped her chance. When the offspring of Buquet roughly pulled her by her rope back to him she only had to pull the rope from the water and throw it.

The noose found its mark without issue and she tightened it forcefully as he dropped his sword to tried and fight the lasso, "How poetic you suffer his same fate," She spit at him as he fought her strength and she understood she may not win this battle on even ground. As swiftly as she could through the water, she used her ankle to pull his left foot from its position and he went down into the water. In an instant she dropped the rope and made to run back but he had grabbed her ankle and she went down.

She kicked her way away and as she reached the stone and brought her head up she heard the familiar sound of a knife hitting the target. Looking up at the form of Erik, his face dispassionate under his mask.

The knives flew into the water and a deep red stain was already spreading. Mia let out a relieved sigh. Nadir helped her out of the water while Erik immediately moved into the water. Micheal Buquet had already gone under so she didn't know where Erik aimed but she doubted mercy.

She gasped on the stone as his glowering form stomped through the water, "You apparently haven't learned from him," Erik angrily commented as he went through the water and Mia felt Nadir rubbing her shoulder as her teeth chattered. If he had already killed Buquet, then why did he speak?

The body was pulled by the back of its collar from the water and Mia could not help but be happy, one knife has hit his arm, presumably the reason he let go of her, another the back of his leg, and the lodged in his back. A back that still moved with breath. Erik didn't seem to appreciate his actions now as he looked at Nadir directly, "Make her get warm."

Although Mia was gracious he didn't force her to see the face of the almost dead man but reluctantly she let Nadir lead her away as she heard the sound of dead weight hitting stone behind them.

“Thank you Nadir,” She said softly going into her room and shutting the door behind her softly, "Throw him off the building, it'll appear a suicide of grief for his father!"

Nadir looked at Erik as he rejoined the man who seemed to be smirking, “And the knife wounds, ma Cherie?”

Mia’s answer took a long moment, “Put him in an alley then, a block or two over. Take any money that’s on him.”

Erik was more pleased with that answer and went right to work while Nadir tried not to be appalled at the woman. Instead he figured he’d check on her.

"Are you decent?" He called and when he heard the affirmative to find her in the same state that she was ten seconds ago… which was hardly decent, "You should be getting warm," He reminded her as she glided around the brightly lit room. In Persia, the light blue robe and night clothes would pass for more than decent among the young sensual women though so Nadir simply kept his eyes on her face and reminded himself this woman just suggested throwing someone off a roof.

She nodded, "I have a bath being drawn," Even though she was out of the water before the blood reached her, she felt disgusted by it, "I should've had him."

Nadir shrugged, understanding her lament, "You're not the force that Erik is. A lasso is not your weapon of choice for a reason."

It did not seem to help her as she ran her fingers through her hair, "I know," With a handful of clothes she paused to look at him, "But now I need to apologize, which I have been doing too often lately."

A warm smile grew on the man's face as he shook his head, "No need to apologize, I convinced you electrocution was cruel, and I let the man sneak in while I was unaware," He tried to laugh, "Pretty poor for an old officer."

Mia laughed, "The weapons we hold around here are not exactly those of your choice for reasons I'm sure," Throwing knives and a Punjab lasso are not typical tools, "And still, I put you in that position and I am sincerely sorry Nadir, I do not wish harm to ever come to you for being so kind."

The Persian smiled and hugged the woman closely which she welcomed, "It is fine child, you were more than willing to trade places with me, I could tell the moment you came out what regrets you held."

She smiled into the hug and pulled away just a bit, "What is it with you and Erik both calling people younger than you, child, it is a bit condescending!" She joked and Nadir laughed.

"Because Erik is condescending and to me, you are a child." She laughed back before remembering her bath and pulling away completely, "Please get warm. You are still freezing!" Nadir called after her as he knew she had forgotten the water.

"Oh be quiet old man!" She shouted from the other side of her bathroom door and Nadir laughed, old man indeed.

As he exited her room he noticed Erik sitting at the piano, "Back already?" Erik didn't respond but nodded, "What is wrong?"

Erik shook his head and spoke in a curious way, "She was so willing to trade her life for yours."

Nadir nodded understanding some of it, "You were listening I take it?" He should've guessed Erik to be waiting for just the most dramatic moment to jump in.

"I woke when you called her the first time," His dismissive tone made Nadir unsettled, but he continued, "Thing is, she has known you a month and she was in that man's arms in a heartbeat if it meant you were unharmed."

Not completely knowing the point of the conversation, he nodded, "Yes, Mia is a good person. Despite her impatience, she knows where her values stand and how far she would go to achieve them." In the short time he knew her, he could see the similarities between her and his rash friend. Erik remembered a woman that did not offer her freedom so quickly, for once- his memory filled with contempt.

Mia exited her bath and was truly decent and warm once before moving to leave her room but stopping short. On her desk lay a black rose and a white envelope and black outline. She hadn't heard the ghost while she bathed which means he must have dropped it off sometime in the night.

Cautiously she opened the envelope, afraid of the words more than anything, and read silently.

 _Ma Cherie Chansom,_  
You may think me ungrateful, but it is quite the opposite, I cannot thank you enough for your return. Years ago, when you made your first deal with the devil, I did not warn you enough. The fault is entirely my own, I should not have let you. Truth is, I was lonely, and you offered an escape from that. I cannot express my guilt at using you. As time went on, you offered more than an escape. You offered companionship, and then friendship; sympathy, and then understanding. Despite your flattering words, I have caused you more harm than I can truly bare, and not a thousand apologies could give you a single reason to forgive me. As for the last offense raised against me, you deserve a crown of stars, not the flames of hell. I, humbly, offer myself as escort to any alternative living situation. If there is anything I can do, please bring it to my attentions, it will be done.  
Yours,  
Ta Fantasma

She brushed the tears from her newly washed face and took a deep breath. If he was trying, then she could try.

“Here I’d thought your tastes had improved from Schubert,” Erik said disdainfully as he approach the piano with a playful eye, for once in a long time.

Mia rose to the bait, “Perhaps you just don’t appreciate his unsurpassable duets.”

Erik’s eyes seemed to narrow, “Move over.”

She stopped playing as she moved over and raised an eyebrow, “Am I to be graced by your hands in these hallowed halls?” Erik snorted as he found the sheets hidden away that he was looking for. Mia gushed on, sarcasm thick, “Oh! Providence has shined upon us all and her gracious light had brought you to these keys to honor me-“ He sat down next to her and she saw the title and the words escaped her dryly, “Fantasy in F minor. How appropriate.”

Dedicated to Schubert’s long-time unrequited love. At one time romantic, Mia now could only roll her eyes. If Erik noticed her apprehension, he did not say anything instead smirking, “Do you not appreciate his most famous 4-hand work? Perhaps we should stay away from the second movement if you are going to-“

Mia’s playful glare returned, and she straightened on the bench, her hands resting lightly, “I do believe you are to begin Monsieur.”

Erik almost looked like he smiled before he began. Schubert’s fantasy really was lovely. In four movements it went from lovely to angry to tragic to a blending of the melodies into one comprehensive quarrel.

Mia loved it of ‘course as it was tragically romantic and because the man beside her was beginning to look more like the man she fell in love with and less like the monster that lived in his head. As the music increased and their hands brushed more Mia could only think of how wonderful they were together.

As the song ended, abruptly and perfectly, they both seemed stilled into catching their breath, “I constantly underestimate how you rise to a challenge.”

The words were sarcastic, teasing and Mia could only smile at the ceiling, “How presumptuous to assume you’re a challenge!” Her words were sarcastic and full of disdain that her easy smile contradicted.

When Erik laughed Mia thought she could fly. It was the first true laugh she’d heard from him in weeks, “Truly mademoiselle, I’m the more presumptuous of us.” When she looked at him in wonder he was staring back at her.

She forced mock indignation onto her features, “I am a model of modesty!” A smooth disengage was made, to put distance between Erik and her. His eyes were lucid and she forgot just how mesmerizing he could be when he was the Erik she loved.

Erik only laughed and moved his legs away from the piano, leaning back with an ease Mia had missed, “Indeed. That is why you’ve made poor Nadir blush no fewer than nine times due to your wardrobe choices.”

“I’m sorry! ‘Poor’ Nadir! Surely I have not put so much weight?” Erik’s eyes seemed to darken, a frown beginning. Mia guessed aloud to keep the mood light, “Or perhaps lost too much?”

Erik seemed to smile a bit at her attempt of levity, the acknowledgment of a problem, “You’re completely correct Ma Chansom. You are a Greek sculptor’s dream.”

Mia rolled her eyes at his flattery, “Do not-”

“And I have always been grateful for your self-assurance to walk around the house in whatever state of undress you please.”

Her jaw dropped at the playful words and she found herself grabbing the nearest pillow off the couch and launching it. It hit the small smirk of triumph off his face as it collided, and she couldn’t hold back her laughter, “You’re insufferable to tease.” She was blushing now as she made to leave and Erik watching with something close to disappointment that she didn’t rise to the bait.

Nadir must have run into her in the hallway because Erik could hear their conversation from the piano bench, “Nadir, I am dreadfully sorry to have scandalized you apparently NO LESS THAN NINE TIMES,” Her voice shouted and Erik could only chuckle lowly at her indignation, “Apparently, I’ve been too immodest in MY OWN HOME.”

She continued to stomp off and Erik heard the slamming of her bedroom door as a befuddled Nadir stumbled into the living area. Without preamble Erik only shrugged at Daroga, “A misunderstanding, her French is still abhorrent.”

“I HATE YOU!” The muffled words came and only made Erik smile because he had missed this. Them being friends and teasing. Nadir observed with obvious but quiet amusement.  

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When people kept trying to get to their home, it was decided that something needed to be decided. So the three sat down at the table, together, to talk.

"So…" Nadir began, feeling like a couples counselor, "I do not think I need to outline the issue, do I?"

Erik spoke first between the taciturn two, "Daroga, you could take Mia up to your home. She could find work and make a life for herself. I would be fine down here."

Mia scoffed, "Yes, because sooner or later they would leave you alone, right?" Her sarcasm bit and Erik rolled his eyes.

"I would make them, without you. You are neither safe, nor happy here. I've given you the best chance you have, provided Daroga would agree." They both looked to the Persian, whose amusement faded quickly.

The girl spoke again, "I will not have my life decided by you two, especially when you’ve just regained some semblance of sanity!" It was still undecided if it was a good idea to discuss that with Erik but her anger was overfilling.

Erik's voice was controlled, but his eyes glared at the center of the table, "And I have apologized profusely-"

"But you still won’t reason with me! We need to leave-"

"Out of the question. If you would give me a course of action to follow, your word would be but my command."

Mia stood abruptly, "I do not want that though!" This had both man looking at her like she was crazy, "I do not want your guilt and your obligation," She explained seeing their blank faces. She wanted his love, but that was not going to be an option.

Nadir looked between them knowing he was missing something, "Then what do you want Mia?"

She met Erik's eyes and shook her head to keep her emotions out of this but failed and turned her back to them, "I want a home, in the country, small town. I want it to have five book cases stocked and an ebony and ivory piano. A horse too, and a stable to keep it in, if you would," She took even breaths after that confession and heard a chair scratch.

"As you wish." Erik's voice said simply and although she could not hear his steps, she was sure he walked away.

Turning back, she discovered she was right and looked to Nadir who stood at the sight of her watering eyes, "Child," He began but she shook her head and he knew to stop. Instead he opened his arms and she greeted the hug happily while he began to put the pieces together. She was not madam, but that didn't mean that was opposed to the title.

She pulled her cloak on and looked around her room fondly, and sadly. She was leaving, Erik granted her wish. Her bags were packed, and Nadir had offered the use of his carriage. Darius carried bags up for her and she took the envelope that sat on her desk into her pocket, leaving the rose.

"I am surprised."

Mia spun at the melodic voice and glared before softening her face, it was not his fault she loved him and he didn't love her, "That I'm leaving?"

He shook his head leaning against her doorframe, "That you did not insist I go with you."

She smiled sadly and Erik felt his heart feel the familiar urge to cry, but the coldness of his mask reminded him that this was best, "I would not do that to you." Curiously, his head tipped and she went on, "Currently you would follow me to the ends of the earth, if it would ease your guilt. I do not want that."

"Then why are you leaving?" Erik was under no illusions that his life was great, but SHE had thought it was, and SHE had told him she would never leave.

Her shoulders shrugged and her tired eyes met his, he saw none of the heartbreak. She just looked exhausted, "Because when I first saw it, this place was like a dream. It stayed a dream for many years, and then, it turned to a nightmare. It is about time I woke up."

Erik didn't know how to respond, as he realized he lived that dream every day, and saw no issue with it, "What will I do without my song?"

Her laugh reminded him of just another thing he would miss when she left, "A song is but a song, and you will use that voice to make a new one, I'm sure." Erik doubted he would touch the piano once she left. He hadn't touched it yet since that night, but since he was more comfortable he would sit at it and run his fingers over the keys, "I'll be lost without my phantom."

"You'll be happier," Erik corrected quickly.

Again her laugh made his heart clench as she moved closer to him, "You are wrong," Her conviction made his green/yellow eyes meet hers and she nodded with that sad smile, "I swear to you Erik Destler, on every life you've taken and everyone I helped you to hurt, that you are wrong."

She stood beneath him, looking up at him with power and anger and hurt and… love. Her eyes slide down his face before back to his eyes and Erik's gaze flickered to her lips just for a second before he reminded himself just how unworthy he was of this woman, "I did not think you a fool."

"I'm not," Her response was quick and she took one deep breath, "But I did not think you an idiot. We could both be wrong," The force of her eyes kept in his tracks, "I love you, and I would tell you a million times, but you would not be happy. I do not need to kiss you to understand that," Erik remembered the kiss she referred to and immediately wondered if kissing Mia would be different. He could not, not while she was this delusional, this deranged.

"You could try it," He mumbled and she laughed a bittersweet sound that he memorized, not sure when he'd hear it again.

She looked back up at him, as though reminded that the distance between them was almost nothing, "Years ago, you said I would only leave if I was not happy here, or if you forced me to, I want this to be understood," Erik nodded remembering the event well, he never wanted her to be a prisoner here, "I am not leaving here because I want to, I am leaving here because you have forced my hand."

Erik didn't miss a beat as his eye filled with hope, "And if I asked you to stay?"

"It wouldn't be that easy mi fantasma," She met his eyes with sorrow and moved past him, bags in hand, "You have asked me to do and accept too many terrible things lately; I could not take you seriously."

So Erik watched his only friend for years move through the tunnel at the side of the lair, and she refused to meet his eyes when she looked back with a fond smile at the place, Mia still loved it, heaven or hell. Just as her foot left the doorway Erik found himself calling, "Cassia?"

No answer came as he realized she was gone. He had finally gotten her to leave- just when he wanted nothing more than for her to stay.

It was exactly how she requested it. It was a small cottage, just a quarter of a mile of a small Parisian town, Rue Vivilio, about two hours ride from the Opera House. Darius had brought all her bags in and Nadir had been making his own inspection of it. It was beautiful.

Made of stone on the outside, it had ivy growing up the side, and a two story layout. Small, two bedrooms on the second floor with two baths were both beautiful and homey. The one, clearly a master suite, had a king bed, a wardrobe, dresser and vanity- Mia loved it. The Persian rug that lay on the wooden floor made her smile at the intent of familiarity.

"It is an excellent example of his work, but I noticed no piano?" Nadir Khan commented walking with Mia down the stairs and into the carpeted main room. Only the other bedroom was fully carpeted but Mia preferred wooden floors anyways.

Mia noticed that fact as well and nodded, "His own way of spiting me, I'm sure," She nodded to her friend before pausing at the sight of her bookshelves, "They are perfect," There weren't five, there were three and suddenly something seemed amiss.

Nadir did not notice Mia's odd look and kept going, "The kitchen and dining room are both very you as well."

Footsteps were heard as Darius entered the dining room with them, "The horses in the barn appear to have enough hay for the season," A smile lit up the woman's face as she moved to the kitchen to look out of the window into the back. It was a large lot and indeed the barn appeared to have two residents, "Mademoiselle, you have a visitor."

Mia spun and found a large jovial faced man with Darius and she looked alarmed to Nadir before calming, "Good afternoon Monsieur, who might you be?"

The balding man extend a hand eyeing Nadir oddly, "Madam, I am Andrian Edgard, the mayor of the town Rue Vivilio, and I would like to extend a welcome to you."

Mia smiled and shook his hand, "Thank you Monsieur Edgard, my friends were just helping me move in," The man's eyes widened at the information and Mia suddenly felt like she was being watched, "I will be in town shortly for provisions and a job, I'm sure."

The man continued speaking with her and once she felt truly invaded, he left.

Looking to Nadir she sighed, "I forgot what people are like. Thank you Darius, for all your help," Her smile inspired his, despite their first meeting, "And Nadir," She turned to the Persian and laughed, "I cannot thank you enough my dear friend, if I may count you as one?"

Nadir opened his arms in the form of a hug which she embraced, "It was my honor, and you are one of a kind Mia," Her mind felt a twinge of guilt for the first time at that name. He was her friend, and he used a fake name.

"Is this house under that name?" Mia found herself asking as she pulled away from Nadir.

His brow furrowed, "Um," He paused and looked to Darius who motioned to the papers that the mayor left on the counter, "No, I think it is Mia Chantel."

Mia laughed, "Perfect, everyone has had their secrets I'm sure."

"No, you forgot what it was like not to hold the upper hand on everybody. People have always been this way," Nadir assured her before looking to Darius, "I suppose we had better get going before it gets dark."

It was suddenly a reality, Mia would be alone soon, and responsible for herself for the first time in forever. She felt a chill and searched for the little bits of the home that reminded her of her heaven by the sea, and of Erik, "Wait," She remembered Nadir's comment and the Mayor's elusive questioning, "When was this house built?"

Nadir deferred to Darius who shrugged, "I believe the mayor told me six years ago construction began," Mia did the math.

"You said it was an example of Erik's work," She turned on Nadir whose eyes widened, "He built this place?"

Cautious of the girl's spirit, he nodded, "I thought you knew that."

Mia held in a sigh, the construction of the house matched the time that Erik's obsession began, "I did not, and I wish I had stayed ignorant. Despite the appearances, I do not believe it was made for me," Her voice trailed off sadly and Nadir exchanged looked with Darius, "No matter, it is mine now and his loss," This did not make her feel better.

Nadir kissed the top of her head and sighed loudly, "Erik is no fool, he would not put you in another woman's home," The Persian's assurance did help her spirit as she realized the time.

"You really do have to leave if you do not want to be caught in the dark, promise me you'll write?"

"Promise, and I'll tell Erik to do the same although who knows who he listens to," He joked to the truth they both knew.

Then Mia remembered the day in the opera house and smiled, "He listened to me," They both smiled and Nadir wondered how Erik never took up the opportunity he had and instead just let her fall through his grasps. The poor girl.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Madamoiselle!" Mia was in a dress that was in the wardrobe, for the first time it did not fit into Erik's color pallet. The green outset her eyes with navy lace and it surprised her immensely when she was walking through what she had found to be an outdoor market, that a small child was tugging on her skirt.

"Yes little one?" She responded talking down the young boy.

His blue eyes brightened and he smiled pointing, "My mommy was wondering if you were new to town."

She nodded, "I am," Following the boy's finger she saw a group of older women huddled, surely gossiping. Especially once one of them noticed the boy, one with the same color eyes that widened and called him harshly, "You can tell her I just moved to the stone house a little ride away," The boy nodded eagerly before running back to his mother. Mia politely waved to the embarrassed woman as she continued on.

The service of everyone seemed to be knowing everybody's business. The questions she answered were all the same and general. Examples are asking "Where are you from?" or "Which house is that?" Sometimes they'd be more intrusive, "Are you married?" or "Why did you leave?"

It was after she had picked up potatoes and several fruits that she came across a small cart with flowers in it, "May I?" She pointed to a few of her namesake Cassias.

The woman there was older and seemed to just notice Mia, "Of 'course, dear, cassias are a wonderful choice."

The flowers were paid for and Mia began to walk away before stopping and realizing something and turning around, "Madam?" The older woman raised her eyebrows in question, "Thank you, I think you are the first to not be overly curious about me in some way or another and I appreciate that respect."

The older woman smiled kindly and extended a finger, to motion pulling Mia in, "Between me and you, anything you tell any of them will circulate until you leave that stone house again. If you'd like to tell me though, mine is the flower shop of Luie Avenue." The woman winked and Mia smiled. She was fine with that philosophy and nodded.

"Thank you madam."

This small town business would take some getting used to.

"Erik?" Nadir called into the darkness of the lair with an internal sigh, he knew Erik would not put on a a brave face for long, "Erik, I brought the mail," A letter of Mia's fine cursive script rest on top.

Nadir opened his bedroom door cautiously, before discovering it to be empty. Confused, he moved on. It could just be earlier than usual and he could still be in the tunnels, Nadir decided to wait. While he did, it was a whim that brought him to look into Mia's old room and discover how much she had taken with her.

Her room was devastated. The desk was flipped with papers and ink scattered around. Broken glass of her full length mirror littered one corner with its frame turned over and broken. Colored glass was on the other side of the room, as though perfume bottles met the wall harshly. Her bed lay untouched, however, in fact it was made tightly and in its normal position. On it lay a white rose and a red one, dried with a folder. Nadir's breath was taken away by the state of the room in contrast to the reverence of the bed.

"Daroga-" Erik began from the doorway as he saw his friend frozen in the ruined room, "It's no-"

Nadir turned on him, "Erik, I cannot judge you," He thought back to the thousands of things that he could judge the malformed man for, assassinations and kind killings, but this was not one of them, "I understand-"

"You can't understand Nadir, because I do not understand!" Erik lashed out and the Persian raised his eyebrows in slight amusement, "I should not be this angry at her leaving, I should not be this despaired, she had left before."

"And you burned down half the opera house and kidnapped the star performer."

Erik walked slowly into the destroyed room, guilty but unsure, "I imagine her sometimes."

"She wouldn't like you on morphine or hashish."

A sardonic laugh escaped the pale man's lips, "She is not here, is she?" His eyes rested on a red object on the ground and he narrowed onto it.

Nadir, still slightly amused, shrugged, "But you wish she was."

Erik picked up the mask of dried rose petals, it seemed so long ago that she wore it yet looking at it he knew he made a mistake, "She was beautiful," The petals offered only some comfort to the touch.

A scoff, "She is, I remember noticing that and not trusting her motives because of that, can you believe that?"

Again he laughed, "I can actually, I did not trust her because of her beauty for the first year. She was so young, so…"

"Innocent?"

"Hardly," Erik's response came immediately and he wondered how much of her life had she told Nadir Khan, "She was not the most respectable character, haram in Persia, then again, who am I to say that," He had commited more atrocities than she could dream of, being born included. It was good she left, he repeated like a mantra.

Nadir was intrigued that Mia never told him but it was as if he never asked her, he assumed she was just unlucky orphan who got found by Erik and forcibly taken in, "Is that how you met?"

The mask fell from Erik's hands as an angry glare fell upon Nadir and he took a step back, "Do not imply what is not there Daroga."

"Do you wish it was?"

Erik again was paused, "Wishing is over and I wasted my time of it."

Nadir's eyebrows went up, "Wasted your time of it, and wasted the prodigy Christine Daae?"

A sigh of defeat before Erik's eyes rested once more on the mask of roses. Her laugh, her determination, her bravery, her wits, her music… He can still hear her playing sometimes at night. In the opera house, when she thinks no one is listening and the ballet rats sleep. But those days are over now, and yet her music teases at his ear. When he turns, it fades away and he realizes she's not here, "I wasted Christine, I could not do that to her. She," He paused and remembered her words, "She deserves better."

It was a long moment that took Erik to lift the mask and place it on the bed before moving to leave Nadir in the room before he spoke, "Erik," The man paused in the doorway, tired, too tired to do anything else, too apathetic to care, "Mia was a new person to me entirely, but the tense interaction between you two… She loves you."

"Loved," Erik corrected harshly, "She will not any longer and she will be free of me to live a normal life," Something he will never achieve.

"Not everybody does everything how you want them to Erik, you may be the phantom, but mistresses rarely do what you want them to."

Mia did get used to it. She went about the job of growing flowers around the house, and her horses (one was honey colored which she named Minnie and the other was darker who she named Cato) came in handy from getting her to town and back in a timely manner.

Her several trips to the flower shop fostered a healthy relationship between Hazel, the kindly old woman, and Mia. Neither really told the other anything important but they both just knew things about each other… Hazel is a widow but her grandson was the boy who had met Mia on her first day and his father Hazel's son. Meanwhile Hazel knew Mia was living alone, with two horses and was musically inclined.

Gossip was a thing that Mia got used to once again and used her ability to stay out of the light to keep the focus off of her. She said no to all dinner invitations or welcoming platters. She didn't let anyone help her bring purchases to her home, and she only let children pet her horses.

Of 'course, she did do some things that inspired rumors beyond rumors…

Her first was a letter from Nadir. All mail was distributed at a mail office and a nice man who sells lettuce on Saturdays happened to see her some in and ask to collect her mail. The mail man read it off while Mia rolled her eyes at the need to do so as she was sure the man next to her listened to every word.

"A letter from a Beau then Madamoiselle Chantel?" Her thoughts were confirmed and she smiled.

Her laugh charmed the room, "I'm sorry to say no, monsieur, just a dear old friend." He may not have believed her, but the fact that she did not accept any man's invitations; it was enough of a basis to accept that Mia Chantel kept a man on the side.

Another was when she was helping Hazel at the store. A small knife sat on the counter as Hazel cute stems and placed the flowers in a vase. Certain knives apparently made healthier cuts in the stems than others but Mia did not quite know why.

What she did know, was that when Hazel's grandchild, Renee, ran into the store and knocked the knife off the counter as he moved around it.

Mia's reflexes had not stilled as her arm extended and she took up the handle of the knife, twirling it expertly before having a good grasp on the knife, gently placing it on the counter. She had not realized the exoticness of the motion until she noticed the boy staring at her in shock; Hazel had more of a knowing look.

"Are you a witch?" The boy asked and Mia smiled shaking her head, "That was like magic!"

"I know a bit of magic, but nothing that would make me a witch or sorceress," It is true, she learned a form of fire as well and some simple mechanics, but nothing like Erik could do. Erik.

Hazel patted the boy's head fondly, "Why don't you go give your mother a flower Renee?"

The boy took up a flower and ran out of the house, off to tell everyone of her witch status Mia was sure while Hazel went back to work, "So…?" Hazel began and Mia sighed.

"You heard me, I picked up a bit of magic."

Hazel raised her eyebrows and picked up the knife holding it to her, "Take this and hit the center of that daisy."

Mia scoffed at the instructions, "I do not hit daises!"

"But you could hit the daisy!" Hazel said in her own victorious way and Mia narrowed her eyes. This was the most intrusive she had gotten and quickly Hazel covered her words, "I do not mean it badly my dear, but we are a small town. There are children. If you can do that, why are you really here? And why should we trust you with any knives?"

Mia shrugged, "Because you all outnumber me?" It only proved Hazel's point that Mia had something to hide but now she knew and took up the façade of holding all the cards, like the opera house, "What do you want me to say? I lived in a castle and fell in love with a ghost who taught me everything he's learned in his travels?"

Hazel's eyes narrowed this time as though inspecting Mia for a lie, "Something tells me that is not too far from the truth."

The younger girl shrugged and winked at the woman, "Far is relative," The bell of the store rang and Mia looked busy immediately and bustled around the plants.

"Good morning Richard, and Amie, how nice to see you! I knew you were coming back but I did not know when. How can I help you?" Of 'course, Hazel would know, whereas Mia tried to rack her brain for the memory of their faces but found it empty. They looked to be relations, both with red hair and the woman smaller than the man.

The man laughed heart fully, "I don't think Amie could go home without flowers to plant," It must have been true because Mia was obligated to move from her plants enough to let the smaller girl look as well although her demeanor seemed quiet as she did not say a word to Mia but instead looked at her for an extra second before continuing. It did not seem to escape the man's notice, "And Hazel, I take it you know who this angel would be?"

Mia looked quickly to the woman for any indication that the title of an angel was of a noninnocent manner yet received none as Hazel came around the counter and a smile graced Mia's lips, "Mia, this is Richard Balergro, and his sister Amelia. Richard, Amie, this is Mia Chantel. She is new to town and arrived about a week after you left."

Her hand extended with grace and Richard took it as a handshake, which Mia was unaccustomed to, which showed only to Hazel, who grew more curious, "It is a pleasure, Mademoiselle, my mother spoke of you briefly I believe, although it sounded too much like a warning to be true?"

Before Mia could reply, Amie spoke calmly while she inspected the leaves of a potted morning glory, "Richard, mother told you not to repeat anything-"

"Oh don't be stuck up Amie, she seems nice enough-"

"Just because she looks nice, does not mean-"

Mia finally spoke in her opera house voice of command, "It is a pleasure to meet you both, I am sure you both will form your own opinions with time," They both examined her, one a look of respect and another look of a challenge.

"I shall," Amie reply with a small smile before picking out her flowers and going to the counter while Hazel removed to being behind it once more.

Richard continued to look at Mia, "Is something wrong monsieur?"

He shrugged, "You're definitely new around here."

Mia's eyebrows raised and she smirked right back at the man, "And you're definitely not," She turned happily and waved to Hazel behind the counter, "Goodbye Hazel, please enjoy your day! Welcome back monsieur, mademoiselle," Her footsteps were followed out however and it led her to groan at the people in the street. They were about to witness her doing something different, and different led this town to talk, which they always do.

"Mia! Mademoiselle!" She turned to the handsome face of the ginger man again as he caught up to her, "Please clarify, is that a good thing?"

She bit her tongue, it was not bad, but she would not call it good either. With a look around at the street with a few others walking down it, politely avoiding their eyes, although their ears were always open, "Not exactly," She attempted to walk away then but his voice kept her.

"But, mademoiselle, have I offended you?" His concern was genuine, as much as it annoyed her, he was sincere, "By angel, I truly meant a compliment and, and, I never intended to insult you with gossip, I simply-"

Mia held up a hand, trying not to care about eyes, "It is fine Monsieur, I am still getting used to this town I suppose," It seemed women could offer any excuse of small-mindedness and it will be taken true.

This man seemed to believe it as well as he nodded, "Well, an apology nonetheless, I will make it up to you one day."

She simply nodded and turned once more to go home, "Goodbye monsieur," Her dark hair bounced behind her until she was out of his sight. Even then he turned away thinking.

"Ready to go?" Amie exited the store and Richard nodded, "She is strange, wasn't she? Hazel said she is a bit peculiar but I think she understated it."

Richard shrugged the feeling off of him, "Very different, I'd agree," He nodded and the siblings set off together, "Very beautiful, though," Amie shrugged with a smile, men.

Luckily, Mia found some relief from her social life. It took her an entire month to acknowledge that it the house was built by Erik, she had to be missing something. Finally, when she took a book called "Masquerade" out, it was a single movement that slid a half circle of the floor and the bookcase around an axis and landed her at the top of a staircase.

Her happiness at that moment exceeded all others, even when she casually mentioned to Hazel in a store full of customers, that she knew piano and could teach. Surprisingly, many mothers have looked into this prospect, if only to figure out more about her.

Quickly down the stairs, she saw where her other bookcases were, and there in the center of the wall, a real grand piano, with ivory keys. She wanted to cry at the touching memento.

The keys were smooth and the tune perfect as her hands ran over simplest of scales. A small sigh escaped her as she stopped and simply stroked the wood, he kept his promise.

The bookshelves held her favorite philosophers and fictional escapades that she could not wait to read. Two armchairs rested facing a comfy couch. Happily, it became her custom to come down there with a cup of tea and sit alone to read. She missed Erik still.

Months went by. Erik's hell grew worse and worse, while Mia slowly grew accustomed. She began to teach students of the town and grew a small reputation as a magician. Her small works of twirling or illusion made the children wonder. Mia wondered why she hadn't heard from Erik, Nadir said that her letters were received.

Erik sat hunched over his desk. Her script scrawl in front of his eyes, even when he closed them. He was tired, too tired. He could hear her playing in the opera house still, taunting him with her ghostliness. He was not sure how much longer this could last.

A sharp note hit the echoes of the house and Mia winced from the kitchen. She was making lunch when she heard Bethany's scratch and sighed, "It's a flute, just breath, do not overexert your blow!" She remembered fondly the days that another would comment on her playing, just as strictly.

The morphine was reliving and Erik sighed into the needle.

Richard was unrelenting and made a point to speak to Mia every time she came into town.

Time crept by. Days flew and months passed. Mia's heart did not change since that moonless night and Erik's grew more pained every day. When Christine left, the pain was immediate, like a drug he needed. With Mia gone, it was like a room closing in on him, the night finally crushing him. Finally, Nadir could not take it anymore.

"A carriage will be here, tomorrow, at six in the morning," He instructed as he walked into Erik's room, moving the bottle from his desk to the bathroom sink, "Get out before the crowds, but get sober, it will be taking you to Rue Vivilio."

Erik's awareness flashed that town name in front of his eyes, in her handwriting, "I refuse."

"You're a fool," Nadir reminded him, and Erik was forced to remember Mia's final comments to him.

"She will not take me seriously."

The Persian nudged the man on the chair, "Have you even read the letters she sends you?" He then saw the desk covered in her letters over the past months and paused, "Ah, I see you have, then you know," He paused and sighed, even he missed the spunky girl.

Erik stood lazily, "Know what? That she won't come back?"

"When she left the first time, when did she leave?"

Erik did not like to remember that day but at the question, he racked his mind for an answer, "I am not sure," He continued to think, "Perhaps daytime? Morning?" The roses she left, were not completely fresh, that is all he had to go by.

Nadir rolled his eyes, "And you did not go after her then?"

The face beneath the mask soured, "I, she came back," Erik remembered the sight of her with excitement as she returned, "If it was the night I may have ventured after her sooner-"

A bag hit him, just packed by Nadir, "Then make her take you seriously, venture after her now, in the daylight, into the world of the living as she calls it." The satirical words made Erik wince as though they came from Mia's mouth directly.

That's ridiculous, Erik assured himself, she would not expect nor want that. It would embarrass her in her new town and he would be rejected once more. His mask would stand out in the sun and she would be bowing her head to whispers on the streets. The last thing he wanted was to ruin her life more, "I could not do that to her."

A sad sigh occupied the space as Nadir gave up and moved to leave the room, "My letters from her end in 'many thanks and lots of love.'" With that, he left to clean up some other new mess truly while Erik glared at the space he evacuated.

The handwriting he hand memorized told him what he knew before he picked up a letter to addressed to him. The signature was 'Sincerely yours.' Picking up another one, it was similar 'Thinking of you' or 'Forever yours' Erik ran his hands through his hair, he did not deserve her to be his, but then thoughts filled his head. Not too different from others of these months but pictures of the two of them, happily married and writing notes to one another- he would be forever hers and vice versa. They could be happy, together. The ghostly music began again and Erik covered his ears before giving up entirely.

"Daroga, make it seven tomorrow."


	13. In which everyone is shoved from the comfort zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poems from Shakespeare, Lord Byron, and John Donne are not my own although I do recommend them all.

"Good morning Hazel," Mia chirped as she entered the store of flowers and sweet scents. It was Saturday, her main shopping day.

The elderly woman smiled at the younger woman, "Good morning Mia," then her face turned to curiosity, "A man was just looking for you, did you find him?"

Mia's eyes widened just enough to tip Hazel off, "Who?"

Hazel smirked and leaned across the counter, "You tell me. You're the woman of mystery around here," Rumors still accompanied her everywhere but at least Hazel's family was accustomed to her around town. Even Amie began to walk with her should they find themselves on the same street but the rumors around her and Richard were verging on hilarious.

Without giving too much away Mia knew she could ask, "Was it a Persian gentleman? He helped me move in months ago, with dark hair?" He had helped her move in, the mayor knew that, so others must too, which mean Hazel knew that.

The grey head of hair shook, "No, this man was pale, dark hair, quite handsome actually in his Parisian suit surely, except…" Mia was hooked, hanging on to every word. There was no way that he could be here… not now, "Except…" Hazel seemed disturbed and Mia grew frustrated.

"Except what?" She close to shouted.

Hazel's eyes widened, "What are you waiting to hear?"

Mia's eyes rolled, "Madam-"

"Except," She paused again, "A mask on one side of his face, it was painted as though to blend in. If he had not been so close, I may not have seen it," Her eyes twinkled, "Now who was he?"

The young woman did not wait to answer Hazel's question as she ran through the door, chiming the bell and letting it close harshly in her wake. Impossible. Not possible. Not at all. He would not. There is no way. Simply impossible.

The streets were their busiest of the week and of the day. It was almost ten o'clock and although most carts and store opened at nine, no one wants to be the first one there. The social convention felt suffocating occasionally, and yet, now, Mia did not care if her neighbors saw her running through the streets.

Her dress was tighter from the fashion choices, and the fact that she was not running through the tunnels or carrying knives around on habit. It was gold around her skirts that swooped as she ran and her red jacket crushed her chest as she ran for the first time in forever. It was warm as they had gone from the days of cold rooftops to warm summer days. Summer would end very soon but as of now it was sunny and too warm for corsets- yet there it was again social convention! Then again as she ran, she cursed the crushing material and all the convention that caused the whispers to already start stirring. As her eyes scanned the streets for his familiar face, his voice, his form, his did the same. Despite the time apart either would still know any of them.

He cursed Nadir's idea to come to this small village; he could hear the voices talking already. He went into the first store he saw and asked about the woman in his daydreams yet the woman spoke fondly of her, she was not in town yet but would be soon. Now Erik was wondering, trying to stay in what little shadow there was on the less busy streets. His eyes off the ground only to scan for her, she had to be here somewhere. It was that feeling of being close, yet not close enough, that kept Erik from calling the carriage once more or just hiding till night time to leave. His bags were not the only things weighing him down though. This sun was getting more than annoying and the eyes on him felt intruding upon the very surface of his being. How did she live with this every day?

"Donde estas?" A faint shout was heard and Erik lifted his face immediately at the familiar sound. A woman stood in the middle of the street at the cross section between the busiest street and the one Erik took up walking on. In the sunlight, her dress resembled flames and Erik could make out the smile on her face as she walked slowly towards him. Cautious.

His voice suddenly came to him at the reality that she was within his grasps, "Senorita?" Her strides paused and he laughed to himself, "Mia?"

The shouting between each other caused more attention as couples moved in from the busy street to stand by and watch the interaction. Mia could not care less, "Erik?"

"Cassia?" He finally shouted at her volume and he was rewarded with her laugh, the surprised by her form moving faster towards him.

Erik's bags dropped and arms opened just in time to catch her when he realized she was not slowing down. Mia hit him with more force than expected and he almost fell back but only took a step to help himself hold her. She laughed softer now, but with relief, and what a relief it was. She had doubted Hazel until she found him, she knew his self-conscience walk. Erik could not laugh, he thought it would be more favorable to cry in relief at the form that rest in his arms, perfectly molding with his own. With her so close to him, everyone else on the street disappeared.

She calmed herself after a few seconds yet neither loosened their hold as her face rested on his chest and his at the top of her head. As though connected the two released a sigh simultaneously, a sigh of relief and of comfort.

"I'm sorry," He breathed into her hair, not sure if she'd hear, but he needed to say it. Needing her forgiveness.

Neither pulled away and Mia shook her head, "Later, I can be happy for now," Erik smiled despite not having her instant forgiveness, he had her happiness if nothing else.

As soon as she pulled away first he noticed her eyes watering and moved his hands to her cheeks, "Please don't cry," He begged not sure what he would do if she would cry because he came, "I can go-"

Mia shook her head and pulled his hands down slowly, "Don't, I am just, very happy to see you," Every bit of relief he felt, she felt too. Her hand rose to his mask and suddenly he became aware of the people around the two of them, "You painted it?" His eyes darted to the few groups that had formed as he nodded cautiously and Mia noticed the sudden tenseness in his chest as she took a step back and realized the impropriety that people would have to work with now, "Come, I have a horse near the flower shop but we can walk to the house?"

Erik cleared his throat with a small smile, "Anything you'd like," Mia smiled and reminded herself to be happy- he was with her now, no one in this small town could make her unhappy now. Taking hold of his elbow she forced him to walk with her normally, and he brought his arm closer to him and her closer to him, as soon as the people became more and the stares multiplied.

"I'm sorry, you get used to the staring after a while," Although he was sure they were not staring at her, it felt better to have her on his arm as they walked. It gave him the opportunity to pretend that they were all staring at her, the beauty on a stranger's arm. He knew they were re-approaching the flower shop he had first gone into and it made sense that the woman inside would know Mia's comings and goings.

She untied the reins and clicked her teeth as she brought the horse between them yet lead on, and as they went down the street, past carriages and more people, Erik tried to figure out what she was thinking. He used to be very good at it but now it was deaf to her thoughts as they walked and he was grateful to be out of that village and in a more country setting, "Would you like to ride the rest?"

Mia turned at the sound of his voice suddenly, "I have actually gotten quite good at side saddle for appearances sake, but if you are walking I'd prefer to walk."

They walked a little farther and Erik could see the house. He remembered the designs for it so long ago and as they got closer, inspected it himself. The two obviously made a detour to the barn and Erik admired the building and upkeep of there as well, and the fenced yard where her other honey colored horse grazed. She was more than adept at taking off the saddle, although he did lift it off the horse for her and onto the rack.

It seemed the unspoken agreement, to go on without speaking as she released her horse into the yard and they walked back to the house.

When they entered Mia took off her coat immediately and Erik stopped himself from rolling his eyes at her loathing for formalities. Her dress continued in a scoop neck and the red lace added to the look of flames along her bodice and arms as she paused looking at him. A small smile, too similar to the one she wore of sadness came to her face and Erik wanted to never see it again, "May I take your coat?" She did not know how he wore his full phantom attire in this heat.

He shook his head and put down his bags quickly removing it himself as she rolled her eyes. Once it was hung they looked at each other. There were too many words that needed to be said but neither knew the order.

Erik started, "The house turned out nice, the cassias out front add to the irony," Yet he did not know how she would take this comment. Her release of aggravated air scared him as he thought of what she meant, "Is anything wrong with it?"

Mia turned from him quickly and moved into the living room forcing him to follow, "Erik, I appreciate the thought but was it wise to give me another woman's home?" The hurt in her voice overcame her anger and she cursed her own thoughts.

Meanwhile, his mind raced to understand what she meant, "Ma chanson-"

"Do not call me that."

He froze. She was always his song, "Cassia, I do not think I understand."

His arrogant charade was nonexistent as Mia searched his eyes for lies, "The home is enough for a small family and in a far enough location. It was built around the same time your… obsession formed and I can only presume this is a byproduct of it."

It seemed to dawn on the man now what she meant as his eyes widened, "You cannot think I would," She did not face him and he sighed anger growing, "You are correct, it was a byproduct of my obsession," The way he practically spit obsession made Mia regret saying it, "But it was a byproduct of me trying to help you. If the time would have come that I would have left that cellar, you would have a home if you wanted it," His speech grew in anger and Mia winced.

"My apologies," She said softly and his anger released itself, "I made assumptions," It was rather heartfelt that he actually thought of her among his obsessing period.

Erik stared at her back, "Will you face me?"

She turned almost instantly and there were no traces of tears or smiles on her face now, "Will you face me?"

Looking to the ground he did not want to, it was what lost him, love, last time, "You've built a new mask in the months that have passed."

"I have had to."

Their eyes met and Erik felt his guilt full force, "I'm sorry," He said in a strained voice, "I did not mean to- I thought it best-"

"I know," Mia said with a shrug, "I understand, it was easier to leave, than to stay, to be honest," Her sad smile came onto her face and Erik growled.

"Will you stop that?" He shouted and she took a step back, she was unarmed. Normally she would not step back in his tempers, "Just," He breathed out slowly, "Just don't, don't be sad when you smile. Be sad or be happy but don't be both." This was the worst Mia to deal with, the Mia that would roll over when inconvenienced and would just shrug off injury. He wanted the Mia that would rage. 

Mia laughed with the same smile, contradicting his request, "Teach me how to and I will get right on that," She nodded and sobered her face to a firm line, "Is this better?"

He wanted her to just hug him again, and to laugh and smile, and cry in happiness, not in this reserved way that made him feel guilty, "No," Her face fell more and he shook his head, "Stop, no, I, Nadir told me to come-"

"I figured."

"-Because I have been moping around ever since you left-"

"Since before."

"-And I have been hearing you playing music upstairs even though you are miles away, occasionally the drugs have convinced me that you're lost in the catacombs or maze and sent me searching, and I sometimes imagine you're still sitting in your chair reading and I try to ask you what notes sound better but you never respond, so please respond now."

Mia actually could not bring herself to interrupt his last rant so the silence afterward hung until with wide eyes she asked, "What would you like me to say?"

Erik sighed and felt his dreams crashing of this moment, "Anything."

She looked around the room, "You look very dashing actually, no wonder we were getting stares from the streetwalkers."

"Not today, Cassia," His harsh tone cut her off and he immediately remembers what Nadir said, "And their eyes were clearly wondering why someone so beautiful was with me."

Mia shrugged, "Hazel thought you were very attractive," She knew how to lighten up her own mood if no one else's.

Erik relished in the familiar feel of their banter, "That old woman? Could she even see?"

"Hey!" Considering that old woman was the most trustworthy in the town, "I like her, she's nice, and smart too."

He laughed and she smiled a real smile, "I reserve judgment," Once again, they knew they had to say something, "Can you forgive me chanson?"

Mia smiled, it was not his song, but just a song, "For calling my friend old, yea I think I can I suppose," The glare she got from him acquired a laugh before she smiled sadly again, "You actually left your land of the endless night?"

It was more of an observation and less of a question but Erik knew how to answer it, "Yes."

"You really are a fool." It was a simple action. An individual leaving their house to come to hers. But this was Erik. He probably hadn't gone out in the height of daytime since before she had graced his home with her presence. Yet, he did come out here, leaving his haven, in order to see her.

He paused and took her in, "I was a fool the day I took you in. I was a fool when I agreed you could stay. I was a fool whenever you played, and whenever you wore that red dress. I am a fool when you smile or when you touch me. But I regret none of those. I regret the day I was foolish enough to let you leave."

"I had more than one red dress," Her heart was touched by his admission and she truly wished he'd say it again but a small voice spoke within her, something cold and jealous, "I will have you know that I do not settle for being second best," She rambled walking away again, this time into the dining room to get away from him, "Although I do not bemoan you for having a plan b!"

He followed her closely trying not to get frustrated, "I was a fool for ever believing in Christine Daae over you," This cause Mia to stop in her tracks and wait, while Erik realized what he said- he had not even thought of his so-called love for Christine since Mia left. His mind was overwhelmed with her absence to notice Christine's, and yet Mia had told him that he was the one who forced her to leave, "I understand what I have put you through and I will give you a lifetime to make up for it."

She turned to him with sharp eyes, the eyes of someone about to see checkmate, someone who could rip him to shreds, "And if I want more than your lifetime? What if I wanted gold and jewels and a giant villa in the outskirts of Paris?"

Erik raised an eyebrow, "A giant villa requires a lot of cleaning, we both know you hate that." Humor dripped into his voice again in relief at seeing her back and fighting with him. 

"Then a maid too! And a butler!" She spun around the kitchen but somehow her intensity only increased as she caught the counter and eyed him, "And a foyer with pillars and marble halls where we could host a party a week. What if I wanted that?" 

Erik slipped off the jacket of his suit and set it on the island between them, "That many people sound exhausting." He was smirking as he leaned across from her now. 

"So that is where your love ends? In rooms of clinking glasses and boisterous company?"

When he laughed, the sound was the most musical sounding thing she'd heard from him so casually and it wiped the teasing from her face only momentarily, "Ma chérie, as long as I am with you in rooms of clinking glasses and boisterous company then I will toast to my dearest and enjoy the jealousy of those around me."

Mia laughed in return, "Dearest love? Do be careful, Nadir will be hurt. What about after months and years of changes, is your love so fickle then?"

"Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom." Erik's voice played out each pronunciation and his eyes seemed to bore into her but she managed to wave her hand dismissively.

"I will have you know that I have little need for Shakespeare or sonnets regarding my beauty." She complained even as she smiled broadly.

Without skipping a beat he matched her smile and continued dramatically, "She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright-"

"Neither will I have you quoting Lord Byron to me," She was laughing as she rolled her eyes and moved to walk past him only to have her hand caught and be pulled back with a playful shriek. Erik was effectively pinning her against the cabinet counter even though he stayed a step away. 

Even more loudly and dramatically Erik changed the tune, "Go and catch a falling star-" 

Mia cut him off by grabbing his collar, pulling him closer to her, "Don't even think about finishing that one!" 

He laughed lowly as he looked down at her, the two of them breathing heavily with laughter and her eyes bright. This was everything he could have wanted, "And what would you prefer Ma Cherie?" 

Brown eyes stared into his green ones for a while as if in consideration. Slowly he saw the light start to leave them and he held on to her hand tighter, "Perhaps Tennyson?" 

Fortunately, this brought her back and she chuckled, "Perhaps Tennyson." She was silent a little while longer, just looking into his eyes before asking, "Do you love me? I really do not want your pity or to be second best." 

He took another step towards her and gently took her cheek in his hand, brushing it with his thumb, "Believe me," His eyes raised to hers and the sadness was crushing that radiated from their depths. They slid to her lips and then back to her eyes before he lowered his head to meet her lips with his own.

It was like a shock for them both. Erik's shock came from how quickly she received the kiss, how eagerly she responded to his kiss, and Mia's shock was that Erik initiated it. Yet both felt something intangible behind that kiss, as his hand slipped back into her updone hair and meddled with the pins slowly. Her hands worked their way up his torso to his chest where she grabbed the lapels of his suit and held him tightly, although he was not leaving anytime soon. At first, it was not perfect, but as the seconds passed Mia felt Erik's ability to learn quickly as his other hand slipped behind her waist to pull her closer to him. She bit his lip and his groan had her arching herself into him, which prompted him to only hold her tighter.

When they did break for air, he kept her close and exhaled into her hair slowly, "I do, I love you Cassia Chantel, Mia Canta, y ma Chanson. If I need to take a lifetime to make you believe that, it is yours, it is yours whenever and whatever you request," She held him tighter and although she doubted him she nodded. 

 

 


	14. Can We Start Again?

The spare bedroom came in handy as Erik situated himself in there and Mia made them dinner. Again, Erik's mind was grappling for some hold on what Mia was thinking. She had been so happy to see him, that was obvious, yet when he said he loved her… she was not happy again. He knew that to go back to his lair would be as bad as dying to be with her and leave her but his declaration did not make her as excited as he imagined it would. Mia sat downstairs while the chicken simmered and sighed, why she was upset? She wasn't too sure, but she just couldn't bring herself to believe Erik fully, or trust him for that matter as his judgment had been so raw in the past. Perhaps her departure was too close to Christine's that his feelings just passed over to her.

They ate in civil conversation about Nadir and Darius and their heaven. Erik had locked it up tightly for now and Nadir promised to check in every once and a while. Mia knew she'd be composing a letter tonight for him.

That night when Erik heard her music, he was content in knowing that she was actually playing it, and she was actually near.

In the morning she came down to find breakfast served fresh and she froze in the doorway, "Did you make breakfast?" She asked Erik, who sat elegantly at the table with a book in her hands as though he was waiting for her to come down.

"I did," He said proudly hoping for a reaction from her, and receiving it as a smile graced her face and she moved to inspect it, pulling her robe tighter around her, "It is entirely edible I promise you," He stood and moved to the opposite side of the table, pulling out a chair for her.

She sat, allowing him to push her in, "I have no doubt, the few meals you did make back in Heaven were delicious, I just do not understand why this morning."

Erik's smile went off his face at her question, "You were up last night till late and I have not had enough opportunities to spoil you," Now both knew that wasn't entirely true. He bought her violins and flutes and pianos and made her dresses of silk and beads and gave her anything she asked for… until Christine.

Mia did not push the issue as they both ate, "None the less, I appreciate it, I did not mean to keep you up last night, I forgot how lightly you sleep," She did not forget, she just did not care at that moment.

"It was… comforting, a pleasure to hear for real finally," He said nervously, and she smiled at his shyness. It was a rare happening, even when they lived in the lair- usually for the early times when he was still learning to live with a female. That first month he learned more than he ever thought he would and Mia found herself laughing at the memory, "What is it?"

She shook her head and took another bite of food, "I was just remembering," He raised an eyebrow and Mia became aware of his mask once again, "You used to be so uncomfortable around me, it is rather humorous in hindsight."

It seemed normal once again as he smirked, "I was younger-"

"As was I!" She defended.

He scoffed and even when his condescension was annoying, she missed it, "Nadir still thinks you're such a child."

"Don't forget, you've called me one before," It truly did get on her nerves but then she did know that the things he has done comparably name her a child.

Erik was not giving her the upper hand, "Usually when you were acting like one."

"Or you were." She replied just as quickly and they felt a bit of the mirth leave the table.

Fortunately, the doorbell rang then and Mia's eyes widened as she looked at the clock, "Damn, I have a lesson, I need to get dressed still, Hazel wouldn't tell but if it is her daughter in law this looks-" She was standing and rushing to the stairs quickly, "Be right there!" She shouted out and Erik was left at the table conflicted from being amused or worried as she was. One part of Erik's fear came true, she did care what this looked like, then again, he reminded himself how she must. She was a lady of the daylight, and either way, there was no chaperone or whatever proper things were insisted upon. She hated gossip.

Moving quietly up the stairs after her he knocked on her door, "Cassia?" Before he could ask something the door swung open and she stood fairly well dressed in blues, hair brushed, and tying the laces in the back of her dress before turning frustrated and shoving the laces into his stunned hands.

He’d done this enough when she had particularly involved dresses and tied them snugly.

"Yes, Erik?" She said hurrying past him, down the stairs again expecting him to keep up.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, "Would it help your image if I-"

Mia did not let him finish his sentence as she opened the front door to reveal the elderly woman from the previous day and a young boy with chestnut hair and a big smile, "Renee, Hazel, good morning! I'm very sorry, I was caught up having breakfast with my visitor, I completely lost track of time."

The older woman did not seem to believe that excuse, although it was among the truth as she looked up the stairs to see Erik appraisingly, "Young man," She called and Mia looked up at him as well with a smile plastered on her face.

"Erik, I believe you met Hazel, Hazel this is Erik," Erik did come down the steps slowly, unsure of how to act around the child, let alone the woman, "She runs the flower shop in town."

"I remember," He cut Mia off and smiled himself taking the woman's offered hand and raising it to his lips, "It is a pleasure Madam," It was as if any scolding look in her eyes disappeared as she look at Mia, impressed, "And Monsieur," Erik leaned down to extend a hand to the boy who stared with big eyes.

Mia smiled at his actions, "Renee this is my friend Erik, Erik, this is Renee, I teach him viola every Sunday morning and occasionally help with his maths on Thursdays," Renee shook hands with Erik happily.

"Are you magic too?" The boy asked and Erik looked to Mia curiously.

She just beamed, "He is, even better than I am, maybe if you do very super well today he will show you," Her tone was that of a teacher, Erik noticed with appreciation.

Hazel continued her suspicion of the suited man with a mask over his face, "Mia," The woman straightened to meet her eye, "May I talk with you," Hazel's eyes slid to Erik and then to Renee, "Alone?"

Mia nodded, "Of 'course, Renee why don't you go show Erik how well you know your scales?" The young boy nodded eagerly and took the magician's hand, making Erik go stoic as he looked at Mia for some support, "Erik, I know how great of a teacher you are, both of you, behave!" As soon as they left the front hall to the living room Mia turned to Hazel, "What's wrong?"

"You know I do not like to pry but having breakfast with a man you apparently, and I quote, were embracing passionately in the middle of the street," Her voice rose a little and Mia could have sworn this woman was concerned for her, "I know you are new but I thought you learned quickly to hide your secrets better than this-"

"Erik is not my secret," Mia said quickly without a second thought, "I would hug him, or walk on his arm in or out of anywhere. I told you, far is relative. To quote, I lived in a castle with a ghost who taught me everything. Meet the man behind the ghost," Proudly she turned as she heard the sound of Renee's c-scale beginning.

Hazel grabbed her arm, "Mia, please, be careful, you have admirers here and a reputation that proceeds you. This man, while I'm sure he is a perfect gentleman, can change that if others know you are living together, I presume unmarried?"

Mia's mouth opened ready to defend her relationship to Erik when his voice came from the arch to the living room over the d-scales, "Anything wrong ma chanson?"

She looked surprised and shook her head, "Nothing mi fantasma, apparently it is wrong for a woman to live with a man," Her tone stayed sarcastic but Erik's eyes widened.

Somehow his mind moved faster than his mouth and then slowed down, because he thought of the solution, just not the reasons why that solution would be bad in the long run, "Isn't that what marriage is for?" Mia coughed in surprise and Erik immediately swore mentally.

Hazel's eyes widened as she took in how Erik held Mia's arm and how she held on to his first lapel, her left hand at her far side and Hazel tried to remember the placement of a wedding ring, "Mademoiselle Chantel?"

Erik’s voice coldly cut her off, "It's Madam Chantel, now, can I get you anything? Renee would like his teacher back," His eyes met Mia's still shocked ones and it seemed to remind her to start acting.

A smile graced her face as she looked to Hazel, "It was just a simple misunderstanding dear, no need to be rash," That last comment said in full seriousness as Erik nodded, "The town is sure to be a little doubtful sweetheart, after you took so long picking up the house and coming here."

Hazel looked at the couple, mind reeling at whether it was a façade or if Mia was the type to purposely not tell anyone of her husband, "I suppose I'll be going then, do you want me to come get him?"

"I can walk back with him, thank you, Hazel," With Mia's reassurance Hazel moved to the door and Mia hit Erik's leg.

"It was enchanting Madam to meet you," He added before Hazel reluctantly closed the door, "I'm sorry," He said quickly and quietly.

"Stop saying that," Mia said just as softly as she took several quick steps away from him and into the living room to help Renee with a glare in her eyes that only softened at the sight of the boy trying to play the piece she had laid out.

"What the hell were you thinking?" She shouted at him.

He knew it was coming when she returned and had gone to the cellar to see how the piano was. Now his notes stalled, "I was thinking that you have a life here and I did not want to be the one to mess that up entirely."

"Well, that would have been done better if you didn't come!"

Silence and Erik only heard those words in his nightmares as he stood, angrily he spat back to her, "Fine, I'll leave then and you can make up your own excuses-"

She grabbed his sleeve, "Erik, stop, I did not mean that. I am glad you are here, truly I am, but I'm just…"

Erik's glare cut off her words, "Just what? Sick of your past? Done with me? Fine, then I won't stand in your way any longer," Mia rolled her eyes as he tried to walk past her but her grasp was too strong.

"I'm angry with pretending! I'm sick of it, I'm done with acting … normal! It's exhausting Erik," Her voice cracked and Erik met her eyes to see her sincerity concerning as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into him, "I did not have to act, not really, but now, their world is tiring and lonely. I was done with pretending then, and I'm done now," She held his shoulders and he hesitantly smoothed her hair and ran his hand up and down her back.

"It's okay, this won't be much pretending, I promise," She already holds onto his arm wherever they go, and their embrace yesterday was out of the ordinary but Mia has always been one for little touches. They remind him that she isn't afraid of him, like the boy who took his hand, "I… they will probably assume you're unfaithful anyways because you've been Mademoiselle since you arrived," He laughed and fortunately felt her back hop in laughter as well.

Mia took a deep breath and nodded, "True, plus it'll be like the opera house all over again. Together we are unlimited, this town is nothing," She pulled away, straightening his black ascot but he took hold of her hands.

"It's fine," Suddenly he feared to hear the rumors, and looked forward to them as well, "Are you sure you don't want me to leave?"

She looked up, "I love you," His heart practically leaped at the admission even though her face was like steel, "And you've proven yourself worthy of some forgiveness, which is not doubted, so answer truthfully, do you want to leave?"

Erik took his time answering, "Would you leave with me?"

"No."

"Then no."

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"So you're the infamous man who has been holding this angel from us," The familiar voice boomed with jovial laughter as Richard's eyes met Mia's across the street and his sister followed close in his wake as always, "I've heard a lot about you."

Mia narrowed her eyes, "None from me," She assured while contradicted.

Amie seemed to be examining Mia's left hand, which held onto Erik's arm and held a single silver ring on the wedded finger, "Nothing from you about him at all actually," She glared at Mia a bit making her wince. She had hoped no one would be hurt by this but now she did look bad either way.

Erik looked at Mia in no way accusatory as she made up some excuse on the spot, "Well Mademoiselle Amie, you must know by now how little attention I pay to gossip, why tell anyone something if they aren't going to listen anyway?"

Richard smirked as his sister was set into thought, "I'm sure you have your reasons. I presume your monsieur is from Paris, as well, good evening sir," His hand extended and Erik took it firmly sizing up the man. He was well built, nice face, red hair, a bit too smiling and right now it looked a bit too fake.

"Monsieur Balergro, this is Erik," Mia said falling into informal tones.

Richard seemed to take Erik's handshake as a challenge as he laughed again, "How many times must I tell you to call me Richard mademoiselle?" Mia shook her head at the harmless flirt while Erik wondered why he still referred to her as Mademoiselle, "It is an honor to meet you monsieur, anyone able to catch this angel is a magician indeed," So Renee's stories circulated as well.

Erik nodded, "I do not think anyone is worthy of catching Cas- Mia, and indeed sir, a pleasure."

A moment of silence passed as everyone seemed to be thinking before Mia's mind caught up to her tongue, "Erik, his sister, Mademoiselle, my husband Erik."

Amie extended her hand and, like Hazel, was surprised to find it kissed gently, "Enchanting mademoiselle," A small smile came to her lips as she realized he was kinder than his features would imply. Although handsome, he had sharp edges and a mask, both of which conflicted her opinion.

"As to me," She curtsied nicely, and Mia began to wonder what family they were to know high-end manners, "Madame, are you attending the fall potluck?"

Mia had to remind herself that her title was Madame now as she remembered, "Oh, there is a potluck?"

Richard interrupted his sister, "Every year, I do hope you will be there, the dancing may not be at Paris standards but it is impressive on our small scale," Mia looked to Erik who had a growing glare aimed at Richard.

"I'm sure it is, when does this take place?"

Amie talked over her brother this time, "Next Friday, I believe, as long as the weather is nice it'll be held outside, the gypsies may even come."

Mia grasped Erik's sleeve a little tighter, "Oh joy, we shall have to see, thank you very much for the invitation. Do you remember dear if I left the roast simmering?" Erik looked down at being called dear and tried to remember if that was even on the menu tonight.

"I believe you did, would you like me to ride back for you?"

"I'll come along if you wouldn't mind?" He made no response but Mia said anyways, "If you'll excuse us, the talk of potluck reminded me of our dinner tonight," And with that tried to make an exit.

"Did Hazel find you?" Richard asked interrupting their walk and Mia sighed internally.

"Was she looking for me?"

"Yes something about a rose bush," Mia made eye contact with Erik, who seemed to relent to let her go, "I can get her to the flower shop safely Monsieur if you must ride back quickly?" Erik rolled his eyes, he never had to deal with this at the opera house, then again Mia could speak up here and she wasn't going to.

Instead, she looked up at him purely, "Whatever you want mi fantasma," Well he could not answer that honestly so instead he gritted his teeth and nodded.

"Go along, I'll meet you outside her shop with Cato, agreed?" He did not sound particularly happy about it but Mia's contagious smile worked as she reached up to peck his cheek quickly.

"Sounds great, remember to close the barn gate," She said mindlessly and Erik scoffed at her attempt at domesticity.

He left her, walking slowly at first and then faster. There was obviously nothing that needed to be done at home so why not ride halfway out there and then back. Plus he did not like the thought of Mia spending any more time with that… boy.

Meanwhile, Amie left the couple to go get a few items from the convenience shop and Richard walked with Mia to Hazel's. When they arrived, he did not leave and Mia wanted to bang her head on a wall from the look Hazel gave her. The rose bushes came in this fall and Mia put down gold to reserve a few.

Afterwards Richard followed her out again, "Mademoiselle, I must ask-"

"Richard, it is Madame-"

He simply talked over her, "What is it? His money? Your families? Why him? Is he forcing you?"

Mia narrowed her eyes, "You do not know him-"

Again she was interrupted, "No but I know you Mia and there is no way that stiff can keep you-"

"You heard him yourself, no one can keep me, and, for you, it is Madame right now-"

Boldly he grabbed her arm and it made her step back because of the contact, "Right now? What about later? If you're unhappy, what do you have to lose?"

Her laugh was sarcastic, "I cannot believe what you are implying monsieur, you know nothing about me-"

"Then let me, let me know you. What does he give you that I cannot? This village runs on daylight, be mine any other time-" His hand tried to move to her waist and in a fluid motion her arm reeled back and her palm made contact with his cheek, the slap sounding louder than she meant it to.

Her voice was a harsh whisper, "To compare you to him is too large an injustice even for I," Coincidentally, the sound of fast hooves came nearer making Mia glance up to see the masked man riding towards them, a glare fixed on the ginger-haired man still holding his cheek, "And in answer to your question, I love him," She stood straight, fixed her jacket and walked with dignity to Erik on the street.

His hand was held down to her while his eyes stayed on the man, Richard, "Coming?"

Mia nodded, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her up into the saddle as she clung to him sitting sideways. It was uncomfortable but once she got used to the style it was not so bad, as long as she didn't fall off.

The door slammed behind them and Mia winced, "The nerve of men these days," Erik grumbled and Mia sighed as she nodded, "The insolent boy! You're married-"

"I'm not," She reminded him passively as he paced into the kitchen and she followed.

"But he doesn't know that!" Erik was angry and Mia leaned against the cupboard with her arms crossed, "If you had not slapped him-"

"I am sure you would've jumped right off your high horse to kill him," He paused in his steps and Mia considered that reality, "Erik, boys are idiots-"

"That does not give them an excuse, I have lived with you under my roof for years and never have I even-"

"Because you are better than the majority of men."

Silence.

"I'm not."

"I think you are. Are you going to tell me I am wrong?"

Erik stalled his tongue before saying 'I love you' after remembering her reaction last time, "You don't have any reasons why."

Mia shrugged and Erik was saved from embarrassment, "Yeah, I think it's a side effect of being in love," She moved to walk away, not seeing his face fall and light up with a smile, "Bit strange on this side of it," She muttered with a hidden smile while he was too stunned and happy to respond.

Meanwhile, Richard sat in their home and asked suddenly, "How many men wear masks?"

Amie, who sat on the duvee reading, looked up startled by the question, "The ones with unfaithful wives?"

Her brother did not care for this answer as he paced, "If that was true it would be the height of fashion, no, do you remember the main topic while we were in Paris?" They had gone for some time to Paris, their parents were experiencing several difficulties at the time in their health, and Amie had wanted to apply to school there.

"My time was fairly occupied Rich," Amie said with complete disinterest as her eyes never left her page.

On the contrary, he was quite interested, "A man with a mask, the demonic man and the soprano under the opera house? It was all the streets would talk about. Now a mysterious woman from Paris and a man wearing a mask?" That would explain her hesitancy to accept his advances, the masked man was apparently mad as all hell.

Amie looked up finally and narrowed her eyes, "You think he is the mythical Opera Ghost? Just because a girl doesn't like you, lies are not the way to go."

He did not seem to hear her words, as he had already taken up his pen and paper. There were letters to be sent.

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By the end of the week, Mia was yearning for something to change. The idea of Erik wasting away in this little town on her behalf was an indecency to his talent and skill. She knew of his reluctance to enter high society and she had no real need for it, but his music deserved to be heard.

So, it was with all the scheming worthy of a phantom’s mistress that she stole away compositions that he brought with him, or originals from the opera house, and sent them to someone who might understand their talent.

“Erik?” Mia was curled up in an armchair in their den with a book in her lap. Erik’s deft fingers stalled on the piano keys, his bright eyes flashing toward the brunette in question, “Please don’t be angry with me.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed at her as he shifted his long limbs around the bench to face her. In the dim light of their little den, it was easy to forget that they **weren’t** married and happily living away from prying eyes and whispers of scandal. The corners of his mouth turned up in a little grin, “Well this may be refreshing, do tell.”

Mia stuck out her tongue at him childishly before pulling a letter from her dress pocket, it was addressed from Versailles. Erik stood to take it from her, leaning against the armchair as he broke the seal and read.

She pretended to read her own book even as she listened to Erik’s quiet breathing in anticipation. Finally, he cut the heavy silence, “You sent my music to the Versailles Opera House.”

His tone was hard to read. Not angry but not pleased. Fortunately, he did not sound particularly betrayed which Mia took as a good sign. Giving up the façade of reading, she closed her book and set it aside, “I did.”

“They liked it.”

A smile broke out across her face as she scooched forward on her seat. She moved her hand to his leg automatically, “Erik! That’s wonderful!” He raised an eyebrow at her hand on his thigh but she did not move it, “Isn’t it?”

Erik seemed to be thinking before he spoke, which Mia appreciated because she knew his temper probably wanted to rage, “I don’t…” Mia caught the sound of emotion in his voice and got up from her seat to grab his hands. His eyes were closed in consternation but when she maneuvered him into the chair and sat primly on his leg after moving her skirts, they snapped open, “You want to return to a city then?”

Mia tried not to roll her eyes and failed, “Just because I go out of my way to make you comfortable does not mean I want anything from it.”

He chuckled and the hand not holding the letter came to rest around her waist. His head came to rest in the place between her shoulder and neck, his breath against her bare skin made her shiver, “You do not fool me ma chanson. If I had it my way we’d live underground forever. I could fulfill the role of Hades and yourself a brilliant Persephone.”

Mia laughed then, “Please Erik, you love being a diva. Almost more than I do. You love the glamour and the limelight no matter your protestations.” The older man scowled, and she pecked his cheek lightly, “I want to see you happy, in a world where your mask matters very little, and your music can speak for itself.” She was playing with his shirt collar absently avoiding his eyes, “You deserve nothing less.”

"We'd have to move." 

"I like new places." 

"That makes one of us." 

"You like me, and I like new places."

The hand on her waist tightened and pulled her closer into him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and somewhere a letter fell to the floor forgotten as his long fingers burned into the back of her bodice. His breath warmed her ear as he whispered, “How did I ever get so lucky as to have caught you? You are the strongest and most capable woman I have ever met. ”

Mia shrugged pulling away enough to look at him and was blown away by the look of wonder in his eyes, “I am afraid you didn’t catch me, we both fell together.” His hands seemed to hold her tighter and she leaned in to close the distance between them.

Erik was still shocked when she kissed him. It seemed so at odds to him that someone of her beauty and goodness could even withstand his touch let alone seek it out, but seek it out she did. Her hands framed his face, fingers getting lost in his wig before tossing it and the mask to the side. He no longer flinched when she did that, even though his breath hitched at her touch upon his face. Her lips that left no quarter to hide, not even behind masks.

The groan that left him had Mia smirking into his skin, “Okay, so maybe my methods are unfair.”

Erik pulled her closer to him, effectively onto his lap. She rearranged her skirts so that her knees could rest on either side of him. This position put her décolletageat his eye level and Erik tried his hardest not to seem too eager, not to look any further than her collarbone which he enjoyed nipping at as it drew the most entrancing sounds from his beloved, “Unfair,” He was kissing his way up her neck now, “But ultimately enjoyable.”

He sucked on her earlobe causing her hips to thrust down into the growing hardness of his, a loan groan filled their silence space of gasps and breathing.

Mia smiled bringing them nose to nose, “It’s incredibly unfair you sound melodic while I just sound wanton.”

Erik looked at her completely serious, “I quite enjoy your wantonness. Your body is an orchestra I have yet to learn fully,” Mia rolled her eyes even as he kissed down her neck again, drawing a breathless sigh out of her, “I plan on making a symphony with you yet.” His hands barely wandered, some part of him still a gentleman even with the gorgeous woman in his arms.

“I’d rather it be a duet than a symphony, much more intimate.” Erik hummed in approval as her hands roamed across his chest and lower, “So you’ll think about it then? Versailles?”

Erik’s breath hitched when her hands did not stop their trail downwards and his eyes flashed to hers in question. They hadn’t done anything… well, Erik felt guilty for even admitting that he wanted to. She was so soft in his arms and even the thought that she wanted this with him, was more than he could ever ask for.

He was not unaware of the ghosts that haunted her still, of the times she’d politely ask him to hold her gentler, kiss her softer, but he was always happy to accommodate. Even as he slowly plotted the deaths of anyone who dared think to take advantage of her.

Gently he took her hands and held them to his lips, bestowing little kisses on all her fingers. She sat back on his knees and when he looked up he was grateful for the openness on her face, the vulnerability she always caused in him reversed, “Of course ma chérie, whatever you wish.”

He practically picked her up and placed her back on the chair before moving back to the piano, recomposing himself. Straightening his shirt and replacing his wig and mask before playing once more.

He wanted to say that he was actually quite excited, but that would force him to admit his nervousness as well. Some part of him hoped that Mia saw through him and knew that he would be excited and nervous and every emotion in between, and perhaps she did.

They sat, both enjoying the companionship before Erik stopped again, "Mia, Cassia, if your feelings towards me are still those of hesitant forgiveness-" 

Mia laughed in a forced lightness, "Oh there are those too Erik, but I would be a fool to pass up your love." 

A fool. Erik felt guilt rush over him at all that he did not do the first time with her. For ignoring her, spiting her, affronting her, and for what? A child with the emotional range of a teaspoon? 

Mia seemed to sense the change in his mood, she was very good at that. Nudging him on the bench she took a seat beside him, her hands resting in major key before a similar melody picked up, "All I want is freedom, a world with only night, and you, always beside me. Promise me that all you say is true."

His arms wrapped around her smoothly, relishing her voice, "Say the word and I will follow you."

"Say you love me-"

"You know I do," He began the same harmony on the beat, "Anywhere you go let me go too, love me, that's all I ask of you." Together they played and the den around them transformed into the cave and house by the lake they left behind. The sconces back into torchlight and the ambient noise into that of the opera house. 

But all dreams end, and soon enough they came out of their song together. 

"You are quite enchanting mademoiselle." 

"Your voice is passable." Erik snorted at her comment but turned in his seat and held out his hand. 

"Erik Destler." 

She met it with a questioning look, "Cassia Chantel." 

He moved around the piano bench smoothly to kneel on the ground with one knee, still holding her hand hostage, "Well, now that we've been properly introduced, I do believe we have a life to start together." 

Cassia smiled a genuine smile, "I think I'd like that very much."  


	15. Epilogue

The opera house of Versailles was a bold statement of grandeur and beauty. The audience was filled with the best of society in all their gold and glittered falsities. In a private box above the audience stood a woman, looking down at the masses with a small smile. Her dress was black, with lace accentuating every curve of her body and every slant. Self-conscience for a moment she looked at her filled out curves, eyeing her stomach flattened with stays as if it would betray her. Her hair was loose in tresses down her back and she sighed deeply as she felt a familiar pair of arms draw her back close to his strong chest.

A deep melodic voice spoke in her ear, “Please,” he kissed her neck, “Please, run away with me or kill me,” She shivered with the feeling of his lips moving against her neck tenderly. Dramatics excluded, he meant his words.

For below, in the world of the sad and unhappy, they were all waiting to hear music that he had achingly put together for the occasion. Afterwards, he was expected at the reception, to be received as the Opera House’s newest composer. At the very thought of facing all those people, Erik held Cassia a little tighter.

Cassia laughed lightly, “What exactly are you afraid of that’s worse than the hell we’ve already faced?” She held his arms tightly and bent her neck to allow his lips better access.

“They could reject me.”

“Like the owners did?” They had never even asked about the mask, as thrilled as they were to hear his music.

“So you’ll stand with me?”

“Unregrettably, ‘till death do us part,” Mia chimed fingering the gold band ring on his left hand that rested on the curve of her hip. A small flutter of nervousness went through her. She’d tell him tonight.

Erik spun her dramatically to take her hands and kiss them both, lingering near the gold rings on her own left hand, “Thank any god who may exist you are such a patient woman.”

She waved her right hand dismissively as if to wipe at the few cobwebs of their pasts that still haunted them, “It’s of no consequence Monsieur Destler, shall we take our seats?” The lights were flickering and the two sat for the performance.

It went wonderfully. The orchestra did beautifully, and the dancers were sublime. Cassia looked over occasionally just to stare at her husband in wonder. It was so long ago that they became unlikely allies in the sewer of one opera house and now they were to be received as honored guests in another.

What a funny way of life.

The announcer hadn’t batted an eye at the request for them to be announced together, “Monsieur, and Madam, Destler!” Everyone milling about the foyer stopped to stare at the couple in black descend the stairs. The whispers began at the moment their feet touched the polished floor.

Cassia did not fail to notice the stares at Erik but she was sure that a good number of the women peering over their champagne glasses were not looking in disgust but intrigue, fascination, and, if she knew the look, desire. Cassia put on her most vicious smile on and held his arm a little tighter.

Erik looked stern, with no hint of expression on his masked face as he was greeted by their first couple, “Monsieur Destler,” The man’s eyes hung on the mask for a moment before continuing by offering his hand to shake, “James Berger and this is my wife,” A woman that was very good at the aforementioned hungry look while she curtsied low, “Your work is absolutely divine!”

Erik smiled in something akin to relief, “Thank you Monsieur. I have the most divine muse,” He gestured to Cassia who curtsied in a way that more like a bow than a curtsy.

The older gentleman smiled good-naturedly and kissed her proffered hand, “It is a pleasure, Madam. A muse indeed.” His eyes seemed to run her length before looking back to Erik and taking up a conversation almost casually. Niceties were neither her favorite, nor Erik’s.

It was with great relief that a familiar voice from behind the couple interrupted amiably, “Forgive me, but Monsieur et Madame Erik Destler?” Erik turned with a hint of annoyance in his countenance, as always with Nadir, but Cassia was beaming as she spun.

“Monsieur Khan!” She replied in kind and all watching picked up their whispers of the couple and their apparent … relation?

Nadir and the couple did not seem to care as the older gentleman took up Cassia’s hand to kiss it, “Madam, it has been too long.”

Erik rolled his eyes, “Daroga, it has not been long enough. We saw you but 2 months ago.”

The Persian smiled at his friend, “I would not say that counts.” It was their wedding he referred to, small and intimate between friends only.

As the two gentlemen talked Cassia looked around the room, smiling at the few acquaintances she had managed to make in her limited experience with the people of Versailles.

The couple in black made their rounds through the room, Nadir helping draw the tension from Cassia’s shoulders as an ever-present friendly face, although she took him up on no offer for champagne. Erik’s eyes met Cassia’s more than once with a twinkle in them, his hand holding her tighter to his arm.

It was very late when they finally loaded into the carriage that bore them home to their estate.

Estate was too grand of a word for the house, although the land deserved the word. It rolled in hills of green with free formed gardens that their carriage rolled over before coming to a rest under a marble awning with twin pillars of engraved vines and roses in the marble. Their driver got down and opened the door with a flourish that Erik savored in as he handed down his bride.

Cassia never got sick of seeing their home. It was small, grand windows that gave the appearance of appreciating sunlight but right now at night was when they acted the best. It was made of old stone and had the beginnings of a garden around the side that Cassia tended daily. It had all the furnishings of a lord’s estate but the warmth of love between the proud man and woman standing before it.

A warm voice blew in her ear, “I’m glad your wedding present still impresses you.”

Cassia shivered and smiled back at her husband, “Always. Although it may need an expansion soon.” Erik’s brow furrowed at her twinkling eyes.

“An expansion? That’d require more servants, and we already have too much space in that house.”

“We shall need more servants anyways,” Cassia shrugged and went to the door. It opened as she reached it by an older woman with a stern face and slim shape, “Thank you, Maria,” Cassia said as she entered, her confused Erik right on her heels. He helped her with her coat and handed it to Maria with his own, “Please start a fire in our room Maria, it is rather chilly tonight.”

“Already done Ma’am.” The woman said and Cassia nodded.

Erik waved the woman away, “Good night then unless you know the reason your Lady is being enigmatic.” The woman looked to her employer before heading off to her quarters for the night.

Cassia rolled her eyes at Erik’s indignation, “Can I not ask so much of my very talented husband to put on perhaps another bedroom, a nursery?” She was climbing the stairs of their foyer now working on the laces of her gown, wanting out of its constricting stay as soon as possible.

Erik eyed her going and debated staying downstairs, locking himself in his study (they each had one of their own) and waiting for her to say what she meant plainly.

But when she looked back at him with something akin to fear he found himself following her up the stairs quickly, “Ma Chanson, I don’t-“

It was then that her words hit him and his normal feline grace stuttered on the stairs as he practically tripped at the top at how quick he spun to face Cassia. His face was paler than normal, yellow-green eyes wide with accusation and mouth open in surprise.

A nursery.

Cassia stopped before him, her fingers still undoing her gown with dexterity as she looked at his frightened face with her own. That reaction was about what she expected, feared, and so they stared at one another at the top of the stairs in a grand house.

Erik’s eyes followed her body hesitantly as if fearing even more that he’d see something to confirm her words, but with the loose dress, her curves were less formed so he ground out huskily, “You are sure?” He wished he would’ve locked himself in his piano room.

Cassia nodded, then remembering she had a voice she lifted her chin, “I am.” She began moving again. She would not be afraid. When they had this child, she planned to be ready for it. Her shoulder brushed the still stunned Erik, “Mi Fantasma, do pick up your jaw from the floor.”

“What if it looks like me? What if I... What if you...“ Erik began quietly but Mia rounded on him.

“What if!” She practically shouted, “What if your husband shares your bed nightly? What if he is in total shock and regret when you tell him the very thing that you carry? What if he has no response? What if you’ve feared this moment every day for the last week and it has come true?” She was panting by the end of her speech and holding her dress to her chest in front of the door to their chamber, “You can do better than what-ifs, Erik.”

Erik stared at her breathing heavily, her eyes aflame with anger and her face flushed. Against his better judgment he smiled at her beauty, and the smile turned into a chuckle as he removed his mask, it landed on the floor with a clink and Cassia eyed him warily as he rubbed at his face. The chuckle turned into a laugh. He approached his agitated wife with reconciliation in his eyes, “Very true mi Amor. Let us just pray that our child has neither of our tempers combined.” She never flinched at his face.

This brought a laugh out of Cassia as well and she practically collapsed against their door with relief, “You are not angry?”

Erik came closer to her his eyes alight as he teased her with a smirk, “Angry? For what do I have to be angry at you for? Bearing my child?” Saying it aloud made him grin and grab her to him with a ferocity that she’d seen often enough.

She laughed as he spun her around in the hallway, “Erik!” He put her down back in front of their door only to kiss her soundly against it, one hand tangled in her hair and the other over her stomach.

When they parted, breathless Cassia smiled, “Thank you for being happy with me.”

Erik looked into her eyes and his tone shifted into one of seriousness, “Scared is another matter altogether.”

Cassia seemed to shrink and his lips urged her back into her full height and he held her there against the door, “But we can be that way together, right?” She asked in a tiny voice that reminded Erik, not for the first time since their wedding day how much younger than him she was.

He kissed her forehead, “Together.” She grinned at him and took his hands in one of hers to lead him into their bedroom.

Later that night, once both were spent and Cassia slept content in Erik’s arms, he recounted their story. All the tears and laughter they’d already shared and caused between the two of them. He thought of his wife who’d grown so much since she was sixteen and himself since he’d met her. He thought of his face and the chances that their child would be like him.

Then he looked around the room and the angel sleeping beside him, lit only by the firelight, and knew that if this wasn’t heaven then he didn’t need to ever go there, for no life could be better.


End file.
